by R A Lewis
He bent and packed a snowball between his hands, the cold biting in, and threw it, catching the edge of Roguelyn’s cloak as she bounced away, laughing. They chased each other for a few moments, throwing snow and dodging each other’s advances. Gaillart smiled indulgently and motioned for Henndo to follow him as he turned away from the clearing, giving Roguelyn and Liam this time, this moment to reconnect and heal.
Roguelyn paused and laughed breathlessly as Liam stalked her across the clearing, a huge grin on his handsome face. She tensed, smiling a wolfish grin, waiting for him to attack so she could spring away. But he caught the edge of her cloak and pulled her down into the soft snow, landing atop her. Their breath mingled and Roguelyn let out a sigh before reaching up and gently planting a kiss on Liam’s cold cheek. He froze, his blue eyes searching her own green as if trying to parse out the meaning of her kiss. Roguelyn smiled tentatively, her hands going to either side of his waist as he hovered over her, braced on his arms.
They stayed that way for many moments, until the crunching of snow made Liam look up in alarm.
“Sorry to interrupt but Gaillart says we need to keep moving.” Henndo cringed slightly at the looks on their faces as they sprang apart. Roguelyn’s core was warm as she brushed the snow from her shoulders and followed Liam and Henndo back towards the horses in the trees. For the rest of the day she and Liam kept throwing each other looks as they rode south.
Chapter 27
Another week went by before they came down out of the snowy mountains and onto the plains before the sea. Here, the land stretched to the sea, where it ended abruptly in chalky white cliffs that plummeted to the waves. Here, they were exposed. They rode hard, Gaillart leading the way, Liam taking up the rear. Roguelyn’s heart pounded at they drew closer to Hoatam. Both these cities were reportedly in a peace as they lay across the river from one another, with nothing but a few hundred feet of water separating them. But she worried that crossing Hoatam might be a massive mistake.
They drew up to the gates of the city with caution. Gaillart slowed and held up a hand. The gates were wide open, and there were no guards in sight.
“I don’t like this,” Gaillart said, keeping his voice low.
“Where are the guards?” Roguelyn asked as Liam rode up beside her.
“This has all the makings of a trap,” Liam said.
“Then let’s go forward slowly and with caution.” Gaillart kicked his horse and they began to move inside the gates. The only bridge across the river, and the only boats across the bay lay within the walls of the city. The Knaw River here was too wide to cross on foot, and this time of year, too frigid and deep. Their only way was ahead. Roguelyn’s heart leapt as they passed under the walls. She felt like there were eyes on them everywhere.
Inside the city it was nearly silent. They heard the occasional voice, the random shuffle, and the odd door being closed, but the only movement were the movements they caught out of the corners of their eyes as the residents of the town closed shutters on windows and doors, or peaked from behind curtains. The citizens of Hoatam watched the little party pass, and Roguelyn became increasingly uneasy the deeper they went into the city. The streets were narrow, and here and there you could see the remnants of the battles that had been fought here many years ago. There were houses that were abandoned, partially torn down, and old blood stains on the white washed walls of some of the buildings. The poverty was undeniable. This city had been a port town, a hub of trade and commerce, bustling with people, and now, decade after the war had razed it, it was nearly empty, silence filling the gaps where people once stood.
It looked like King Hargrave had completely forgotten this city. Because it was in a truce with its neighbor, it was clear that very little trade happened here, and the faces Roguelyn glimpsed in the windows were gaunt and underfed. As they approached the river docks on the far side of the city, they began to hear movement behind them. The clopping of more than a few horses could be heard echoing back from the streets they’d passed. As the river came into view, it was clear that they were not going to be crossing easily. Before the docks and the bridge was a small group of ragged and clearly worn out soldiers. They wore the dirty yellow tunics of Gadel and their horses were lean, rib bones and hip bones sticking out. Roguelyn turned in her saddle as they came to a stop and saw that another small contingent of soldiers had approached from behind through the streets, effectively cutting them off.
Gaillart held up a hand for them to stop a few dozen paces from the group of soldiers around the bridge.
“We seek permission to pass,” Gaillart called out, his voice strong and loud. A man who seemed to be in charge pushed his horse forward a few paces, separating himself from the rest of his soldiers.
“I don’t think so.” He was gaunt and looked exhausted, his years written on his long face.
“And why not? We don’t wish you or your men any harm.”
“We’ve just received word from the capitol that a duke and a spy escaped the city and may be headed our way. Now I am willing to bet my career that you are that missing duke. I wonder how much of a reward our king will give us for capturing you?” His men around him all tightened their grips on their swords, determined. Roguelyn and her party shifted uncomfortably in their saddles. Clearly these soldiers did not know about their king’s death.
“You haven’t heard, have you?” Gaillart called out. The men looked at each other.
“Heard what?”
“You’re king is dead. King Hargrave was found dead a week ago. Your war is over.” The men began to whisper and talk to each other, their horses pacing and pawing the ground nervously as their riders became more and more alarmed.
“I’m not sure that was a good idea,” Roguelyn whispered sideways to her father. Her hand remained on her sword, ready for trouble.
“They needed to know. They need to know their war is over. It died with their king.” Roguelyn desperately hoped that was true. She begged the gods that Queen Rohesia would be willing to end the war and sign a treaty. Finally, the man turned back to them, anger and confusion on his face.
“How have we not heard about this?”
“How long have you been in Hoatam?”
“Only about a week.”
“I would imagine if you send a rider now you would intercept the rider who’s coming with the message for the war to end,” Gaillart said. “Your war is over. Go home in peace.” The man looked at them suspiciously.
“You will not cross until we get confirmation of what you say. You may camp here for the night.” The man nodded to one of his men who dismounted and motioned for them to follow him. Gaillart sighed and looked to the group.
“It’s better to comply. They will get the news soon enough and right now, there is no violence.” Liam huffed and shook his head, clearly frustrated at being delayed. Henndo smiled and followed Gaillart. Roguelyn was frustrated as well but she followed her father. The man led them to a spot along the river where an abandoned warehouse stood. It was three sided with a thatched roof. The man leading them pointed inside.
“Sorry it’s not much. We can bring you some food if you need it and some blankets but we don’t have much. This winter so far has been hard on us, and this town is in desperate need.” Gaillart clapped the man on the back.
“We are just fine, sir. We have our own food and blankets. Is there anything we can do for the townsfolk?” The man looked at Roguelyn’s father startled.
“We keep you captive and you offer to help?” He was incredulous.
“Yes. I told you the war is over. We should be helping each other, not fighting.” The man looked at Gaillart, and then at the rest of them in turn.
“Truly?” They all nodded. “Alright, then after you get settled, come find us by the bridge. We cook a large meal every night and serve it to the townsfolk.” They settled in, unloading, brushing, and watering their horses, and setting up bedrolls. The walls of the building blocked the winter wind, but the temperature was still
below freezing. There was no snow on the ground, but Roguelyn wouldn’t be surprised if that night they got freezing rain.
Gaillart led the way back to the bridge where the cooking was in full swing. The man in charge introduced himself as Gaven, and he put them to work. Roguelyn helped serve the food, while Henndo broke out his lyre and played some music. Soldiers and townsfolk alike began pouring from the streets into the space between the river and the buildings. Boats were overturned for seating, barrels and stools brought out, and fires lit. They carried bowls and utensils, and whatever food they had to spare. The men as well as the women and children were gaunt, and had a haunted look in their eyes. These people had seen so much fighting, and so much poverty. Liam and Gaillart were asked to help prepare the food, which Liam did in silence while Gaillart chatted up the men around him, forging friendships and ties where he could.
Later, Gaillart told Roguelyn that people were much less likely to kill you if they thought you were their friend. She hoped that was true. She was dishing out a thin stew with a few winter vegetables and some grisly meat in it when a little girl, who wasn’t older than seven, came up beside Roguelyn. She bent down and looked the girl in the eyes.
“Who are you?” she asked. The girl had curly blonde hair and bright blue eyes, but the rest of her was skin and bones. She was wearing layers of ragged cloth, and what Roguelyn assumed used to be a dress. In her arms, she clutched a worn-out doll. The little girl never answered Roguelyn, just stared at her. Roguelyn grabbed a roll of bread off the table and held it out to the girl. The girl stared at it a moment before grabbing it abruptly and running off. Roguelyn smiled a bit sadly at the girls retreating back.
Once the food had run out, and everyone had eaten, many of them sat around the huge bonfires the soldiers had built and listened to Henndo sing and play his lyre. He tried to keep the songs up beat, but as the night grew darker and people began to head home to bed, his songs became melancholier. Roguelyn vowed to write to Queen Rohesia about the plight of these people and ask for help on their behalf, but she knew that in order to save them she would have to save herself and get across the river first.
That night was cold and Roguelyn had trouble sleeping. Her bed roll was next to Liam’s and as she lay awake thinking, she looked over to find him watching her. She slid a hand over to his own and squeezed it gently. He squeezed back and her heart settled. He may have been mad at her for her lies, but since that moment in the clearing she’d felt a building hope.
At some point in the night there was a slight commotion down by the bridge but their guard who was stationed at the edge of their building told them not to worry and to go back to sleep. The soft patter of rain started not long after and the temperature continued to drop. Roguelyn finally drifted off to sleep. When they awoke the following morning, it was misty and freezing cold. An inch of ice covered every blade of grass, every surface, every standing pool of water, and every tree branch. The river was moving swiftly enough here to stay unfrozen, but everything else was covered. Roguelyn marveled at the beauty of it all and the tinkling sound the trees made as a slight breeze pushed through the branches. Her feet crunched on the ground as she followed her father and the others towards the bridge. She looked beyond the city to the bluffs rising into the sky, the white cliffs beyond. The grass looked white like snow had fallen but she knew it was layers of ice.
Gaven was at the bridge with a strange man they didn’t recognize. They stood, waiting for the duke and his party to arrive.
“Last night we received a message from the capitol,” Gaven paused, the tension growing as they wondered what their fate might be. “It seems your information was correct. Our king was found dead in his rooms from a stab wound to the chest. He was murdered.” Roguelyn’s heart began to race. Did the queen say who had killed him? Did she know? Did these men now know her terrible deed? Her gut churned. Gaven smiled wanly. “The queen writes that the war is over. We are to stand down and go home. She writes that you are to pass,” he said this loudly so that all his men could hear. A great cheer went up from the men as well as the few townsfolk who were gathered. A few men broke away and ran back into the twisting, cold streets to tell everyone the news. “The queen also asked for a letter to be delivered to a Lady Sara?” Roguelyn started at his words and stepped forward. He handed her a sealed envelope. She looked at Gaven curiously but his face remained blank. She gently tore the seal and read the contents of the letter.
Lady Sara,
Or whoever you are. I know it was you. Thank you for freeing me.
R
Roguelyn’s heart pounded as she read but it finally calmed. She smiled and put the folded letter into her pocket. Her father looked at her quizzically before turning back to Gaven.
“Are we free to cross then?” Gaillart asked.
“Yes, you may pass. But please, advocate to your king on our behalf. None of us wanted this war. If he could be kind to his prisoners, or release them back to their families, that would make us so grateful.”
“I would rather you wrote me a letter that I could bring to our king. He is a reasonable man and will listen.” Gaven nodded and smiled.
Roguelyn wasn’t ready to breathe easy yet until she was on Rayaven soil. The soldiers all gathered to wish them luck. They rode their horses across the bridge, their hooves ringing on the stone. Roguelyn and the others turned to look over their shoulders at Gaven and the soldiers. Gaillart waved and they rode on. Roguelyn let out a huge sigh of relief as her horse crossed into Wresley. Awaiting them was a contingent of their own soldiers. Gaillart raised a hand in greeting. A young captain stepped forward and saluted.
“Commander, we are yours,” he paused, and looked suspiciously out over the bridge. “But may I ask, why did they let you cross?”
Gaillart turned to address the small company. “The war is over men. Their king is dead, and his men are backing down. We ride for the capitol immediately.” The men saluted and leapt into action. Roguelyn was caught up in the whirlwind and lost track of Liam. She had wanted to speak with him again now that they were safe on their home ground but they were surrounded by their men and they travelled fast back across Rayaven and on to the capitol.
Chapter 28
Roguelyn luxuriated in her hot bath. She let the heat rinse away the aches and pains of the last year. Outside her room, a snow storm raged. Winter had come to the valleys of Rayaven. A knock on the door startled her from her thoughts.
“I’m almost done.” She quickly finished rinsing her soapy hair.
“It’s time to see the king,” a voice rang out.
“I’ll be there in a moment.” Roguelyn stood up and reached for her towel. She dried off and marveled at how long her hair had grown in the few short months she’d been gone. It was almost to her shoulders. She dressed in a simple green dress with gold trim and swept her hair up in two gold clips on either side of her head. Her father, Liam, Henndo, and she were scheduled to meet with King Fairburn and his court. Roguelyn was nervous. Her father warned her that although her actions were noble and just, she had still defied the laws of her country both by entering the military as a boy, and also by posing as a spy and sneaking into Gadel. He warned her that there might be consequences for her actions.
She eased out into the hall, and saw Liam coming out of his room next door. He paused, not having seen her yet and ran his fingers through his hair and straightened his tunic. He looked up then and saw her. In the moment before he registered who she was, Roguelyn saw the old Liam, the Liam before she had lied to him. Since they had gotten back onto home soil, he had been different, more aloof than even before. The hope that had so delicately kindled in her heart had withered and died. His eyes darkened as he realized who she was and he turned away, walking briskly down the hall. A hand alighted on her shoulder and she jumped. But she turned to look up into her father’s eyes. He smiled, his green eyes crinkling.
“Give him time. You both have been through a lot together and he needs time to adjust.”
Roguelyn smiled at him but didn’t believe him. She had probably ruined any chance of having a friendship with Liam, let alone anything else.
“How much time?” Her voice was wistful.
“More than a few days,” her father chuckled and put an arm behind her, guiding her towards the throne room. She realized he was right. He hadn’t completed his mission and as they’d drawn closer to the capitol, he’d become more and more withdrawn. Perhaps he was as nervous as she was to face the king. She had murdered someone, and Liam had failed in his duties as spy. Soon they would all know their fates. She swallowed and straightened her spine.
She walked with her father through the castle of Alnor and into the throne room. She compared this throne room to the one in Gadel. King Fairburn had more humble taste than King Hargrave. The room had a feeling of understated elegance rather than out-right opulence. The floors were white marble, the walls a light golden color. There were only 4 tapestries on the walls, each depicting a heroic deed of a former king. The thrones were only raised a few steps above the crowd of nobles. King Fairburn sat upon his throne, elegant in gold and red. His brown hair had highlights of red running throughout and his beard was red with a few specs of silver. His eyes were twinkling and bright hazel, and his face was kind, although lined with worry. His queen sat beside him. She was fair and blonde with a high forehead and a kind face. She was pretty but not beautiful. Roguelyn’s last encounter with Fairburn over a year ago had been colored with pain and sadness and she barely remembered it but she didn’t think the king had had as much silver in his beard then. This war had been wearing on him too.
The hall was filled with nobles, including Roguelyn’s mother Isa Ashdown. She stood off to the side of the crowd, her eyes concerned, but not showing much outward emotion. Roguelyn knew she was worried but wouldn’t show it in public. Roguelyn tried to smile at her mother but it came out more like a grimace. Roguelyn had appreciated that her mother had been worried about her, but after hearing her mother talking to her father, it was clear Isa had done nothing once her daughter had disappeared, assuming her gone or dead, along with her husband.
