The six in front of us appeared restless to move as well. They tilted their heads at Arrick, imparting a respectful goodbye, and raced off to join their comrades.
Confusion over their familiarity with Arrick pulsed with fear as I watched the black clad Shadow riders disappear around a bend in the road. Had they truly meant to fight Arrick? Or was there an allegiance that I had missed?
Gunter was Arrick’s friend and enemy. Could the same be true about the Ring of Shadows?
More reasons not to trust the Rebel King.
More reasons to fear the Ring of Shadows.
I had heard of their stealth before, but I hadn’t even noticed the army cloaked by the trees. I had been too focused on the six men I could see.
The rebels and Cavolian riders talked in low voices and Arrick and Gunter leaned in again, snarling a conversation that I could not overhear. It was clear that none of these men had expected to run into the Ring of Shadows.
“We ride on,” Arrick declared at last. “We shall make camp near Crestif.”
The low, conversational hum died down as men kicked their horses in motion. Oliver and I usually stayed in the middle of the pack, but that had upset both of us enough to dampen our motivation to move.
“That was the Ring of Shadows?” Oliver exclaimed. “We ran into the Ring of Shadows? We very nearly ran into them! Can you believe we’re still alive after all that?”
“I am as baffled as you.”
His voice dropped to a whisper and his wide chocolate eyes stared at me with wild panic. “Tessana, what if they had attacked? Or captured you?” His voice dropped even lower. “Worse, what if they had searched you?”
“Shush, Oliver the Silent,” I hissed. “We can’t ask those questions. The important thing is that they didn’t. I’m fine. You’re fine. We’re fine.”
His chin jutted mutinously, “But, what if?”
“I would never have let them touch her,” Arrick declared with that rumbling voice.
Both Oliver and I nearly fell off our saddles. We hadn’t realized he was that close. Or close at all.
Arrick directed his horse next to mine. He’d pulled his hood back so I could see his face, but only barely. “They wouldn’t have gotten within ten yards of you before I slaughtered them, Tess. Every last one of them. You must believe me.”
He didn’t sound desperate or afraid. He was utterly sure of himself. I found that I believed him too. He had kept me safe thus far, why shouldn’t he protect me from the Ring of Shadows as well?
But I couldn’t tell him that. He already had way too much self-confidence. I couldn’t feed his ego and still be expected to tolerate him.
So instead, I said, “They seemed to know you, Commander. Are you in league with the Ring of Shadows?”
“The Ring of Shadows is a collective of mercenaries. What started as a small contingent of warlords has grown into an army of men dissatisfied with the realm and those who rule it.” He cleared his throat as his gaze darted away from mine for a moment. When it returned, something bleak appeared in his bright blue eyes, something shameful. “They believe the rebel army is as dissatisfied as they. They have asked us to join.”
“And you refuse?”
“We’ve lost men to them. Men who have felt that my methods are too restrained,” Arrick admitted and I felt the pain and grief in his words. “But our agendas do not align.”
Genuine curiosity lit up inside me. To an outsider, it would seem as though they did. The rebel army was known for their ruthlessness, as was the Ring of Shadows. The rebel army was known for their disregard for crown and country, the same as the Ring of Shadows.
But as I looked to the merchant family offering the rebel soldiers expensive perfumes and oils out of gratitude, I knew without a doubt the two forces were vastly different.
No matter what the rebel army professed, it remained the champion of the people, not an enemy. And it was clear by what I witnessed today the same could not be said for the Ring of Shadows.
“And yet they recruit you?” I asked.
“With determination,” Arrick answered. His shoulders sagged. “It can be exhausting. War is in our future, but I do not relish the idea of risking my men at the hands of those demons.”
Oliver broke in, “Do they have a leader?”
Arrick nodded. “He remains a mystery. Some say they make their base in Blackthorne, but no one knows for sure. No one knows their full numbers. They are skilled in pagan magics and deadly arts. I cannot engage in battle with them until I know more. Until I know exactly what we will be up against.”
“They are a long way from Blackthorne,” I said simply to say something.
“They are all over the realm,” Arrick explained. “You can find them in any kingdom, in any village. Their numbers grow daily. Their threat deepens by the hour.”
Before I could respond, I heard the rumble of horses on the highway. I tensed. My hand fell to the hilt of my sword and I readied myself for the war Arrick just admitted we couldn’t win.
“Of course, they show up now,” Arrick grumbled.
“Who?” I asked.
Before Arrick could answer, riders wearing tunics boasting the Tenovian colors of black and red and the Tenovian crest upon their chests appeared on the road, racing toward us with swords drawn and silver helmets gleaming.
The Tenovian army.
Arrick did not pull his weapon, nor did his men reveal theirs. Instead, they waited in the middle of the highway, looking irritated.
The commander of the Tenovian army drew to a stop directly in front of us, anger on his paunchy face.
“You’ve made the wrong section of highway your resting place, Arrick Westnovian.” he bellowed as spit sprayed from his thick lips. “By order of King Sasha Sennoa of Tenovia and the power of the realm presided over by Tyrn Fennick, King of Elysia, you have been exiled from this kingdom, along with your band of marauders.”
“Exiled?” Arrick laughed. “By the King of Tenovia? This is a joke, Donivan. It has to be.”
Donivan’s beady eyes narrowed until they were almost invisible in the folds of his face. His impressive weight tipped on the too-tiny saddle beneath him and he wobbled precariously.
The buttons on his uniform strained against his width, but he held himself with the air of someone in charge. “You heard the edict, Westnovian. If you have complaints, they must be taken to the king by proxy. You are to be escorted to the border or forcefully removed from this kingdom. It is your choice.”
“You can’t be serious.” Arrick’s patience was thinning. “We ran into the Ring of Shadows not minutes ago and you are removing my men? The only army willing to protect the people of Tenovia?”
Donivan leaned forward, testing the strength of his buttons and the abused mount beneath him. “This is not about reason, Westnovian. This is about obeying the order of the king whose land you have invaded and unlawfully claimed as your own. The Tenovian guard has been ordered to see your presence removed from our land. Resistance will end in battle. I leave it up to you to decide.”
“We were already on our way to the border,” Arrick explained.
Donivan and the army behind him held stony expressions, waiting for his decision. Arrick’s gaze briefly fell to mine before it returned to Donivan.
“Fine, yes, we will allow you to escort us to the border,” Arrick sighed as though it pained him.
“As I thought you would,” Donivan sneered. Arrick turned his horse around, but Donivan wasn’t finished. “And Westnovian?” Arrick turned back, giving him a sideways glance over his shoulder. “You shall not return.”
I thought I heard Arrick mumble something like, “Not as a Westnovian, anyway,” but I couldn’t be sure.
Once Arrick had his steed pointed in the correct direction again, he jerked his head for me to join him. I obeyed, not wanting to get caught up in the Tenovian unit behind me.
Arrick pushed forward until we were situated at the front of the rebel army where Gunter wa
ited for us. Oliver rode on my left and Arrick on my right, Gunter on the other side of Arrick. I could feel the Tenovian soldiers pressing against us, anxious to get rid of us.
I wanted to explain to them what a mistake they were making. Arrick and his rebels had done so much good since I’d been with them.
But Arrick was right, we were headed toward the border anyway. It was useless to fight with them and delay our progress or lose lives.
“This ruins your cover of darkness plan,” Gunter grunted.
“Bloody hell,” Arrick groaned.
A second army waited in the distance, looming in Soravalian colors. Arrick’s entire army rumbled with outrage.
Three armies now occupied the highway. The Tenovian army behind us, escorting us to the border. The rebel army. And now the Soravalian army. Horses pranced and tossed their manes as their riders watched us approach.
“This was a trick!” Arrick called back at Donivan. His voice carried over the angry rebel army.
“You’re their problem now, marauder scum!” Donivan bellowed. “Do not try to seek refuge in Tenovia again. We want nothing of you or your filthy rebels!”
Arrick cursed and held out his hand to Gunter, who grasped it heartily. “I believe this is where we part ways.”
“We shall meet soon, friend,” Gunter laughed, low and dark. “But for now, enjoy your homeland.” He turned in his seat and shouted to his men. “Cavolia rides!”
Men broke off in every direction. The Soravalian army pushed against the border, swords readied, but useless from where they were forced to wait.
“Stop them!” Donivan shouted. Soldiers kicked their horses into motion and chaos broke loose.
Arrick brought two fingers to his mouth and let out a piercing whistle that could be heard over the chaos of the chase.
More men fled, rebels this time, bellowing whoops at the dim sky. Arrick’s men scattered as swiftly and randomly as Gunter’s Cavolian horde had. Arrick snatched the reins from my hand and kicked Finare into a gallop.
“Oliver!” I screamed as I held onto Finare’s mane for dear life.
“Behind you!” he shouted.
“Make sure it stays that way!” Arrick hollered. “Or they’ll make you pay for it!”
“Arrick!” I gasped as Finare jumped a wide root and landed with a rocking jolt.
“Hold on, Tessa,” he ordered. “And trust me.”
16
I held tightly onto Finare’s mane. My thighs squeezed firmly to the saddle as we jumped over roots and darted between towering cedars.
As we approached the Soravalian border, the black cedars weren’t quite so tall, nor quite as wide as they had once been. Still, the forest was a maze.
Arrick seemed to know it well, however. He held my reins tight in his hand, leading Finare through the tangle of branches and sharp turns.
I could hear dogs barking and men shouting. Arrick’s sharp curse echoed my fear. Soravale was known for its hunting dogs.
Arrick dug his heels into Thief’s belly and the steed pushed forward, faster, more determined.
I turned to see Oliver’s near collision with a low hanging branch. “Keep up, Monk!” I shouted at him.
He hollered something back that was decidedly not monk-like.
The hounds barked and bayed, their low growls biting at the distance between us. As far as I could tell we were straddling the Tenovian/Soravalian border. We weaved in and out of forestry but didn’t commit to either country.
The Tenovian army would know this land well. They would be ready for us if we moved too far south. And yet, Soravale waited to the north. Both royal houses wanted Arrick, and they would want me, if they discovered who I was.
But I was more concerned about Arrick at the moment than my own survival or the crown in my satchel. He needed to be able to continue helping the realm.
I wouldn’t let him be captured. After he had saved my life so many times, I would do the same for him.
The path made a series of sharp turns. The hounds sounded like they were right on our heels. Oliver shouted something behind us, but I couldn’t make it out over the pounding of hooves and the racing of my own heart.
Arrick glanced back at me, his expression filled with determination. He nodded once and I understood him. He would protect me, no matter the cost.
The forest opened up into a clearing. Even the canopy of leaves and branches thinned, allowing a shaft of sunlight to provide a brightness and warmth I’d been missing inside Tenovia. We burst into the clearing.
“Just through here,” Arrick barked. “Then we’ll be—”
Our horses drew up, nearly unseating me. Soravalian guards pushed through the edges of the clearing on all sides. We were surrounded.
Arrick whipped our horses around to go back the way we came, but hounds rushed through, barking and snapping at the air, closely followed by more riders. One of them held Oliver’s reins tightly in his hands, another one kept a sword pointed at Oliver’s back.
“Dragon’s blood,” I cursed. Two armies working together to stop one person seemed a bit excessive, although we seemed to have lost the Tenovians. Or maybe we’d managed to end up on the Soravale side of the border. Regardless, it shouldn’t take an entire legion to capture one outlaw without his army.
Arrick pulled his blade from his hip and pointed it with unerring precision at the Soravalian captain. “You will let us go.”
The captain, a man at least ten years Arrick’s senior, slid off his horse and landed with the grace of a feline. “I cannot. I have orders.”
“Damn your orders,” Arrick growled. “I have essential business to attend to.”
“Be that as it may,” the captain smirked. “Your presence has been requested at the palace. By force if necessary.”
“Haeman, you make a grave mistake,” Arrick returned. He released Finare’s reins and slid off Thief as well. His feet hit the forest floor with a thud. He turned a slow circle, arcing his deadly blade in front of him. Bloody hell was right. He planned to fight the entire lot of them.
“You are outnumbered,” Haeman reminded Arrick.
Arrick smiled. “I cannot recall a time when that has ever mattered.”
“By the power of the Light,” I muttered, jumping down and pulling out my blade.
Arrick glanced over his shoulder, “I thank you for your concern, Stranger, but I can handle these—”
I lunged forward before he could insult me, meeting the sword of a Soravalian guard. The man was unprepared for the force of my hit and wobbled precariously to the side. In another two moves, I had his sword thrown from his limp hands and my blade at his throat.
I turned a raised eyebrow at Arrick. His mouth hung open and his sword stilled in his frozen fingers. “What was that?”
I bobbed a curtsy. “My education.”
He shook his head as if clearing it of fog. “Alright then.”
I turned around to face the guard closing in on me. “Alright, then.”
The clanging of swords clashed through the air as the guards attacked. Arrick and I fought valiantly, relentlessly. Our horses danced uneasily in the middle of it all.
I jumped and parried and leapt out of the way of more than a half dozen blades. Disabling what I could, I fought to stay just a step or two ahead of them. They attacked as one, but they remained cautious, not aiming to take our lives. At least not yet.
Oliver cheered for me when I disarmed two guards at once.
Just when I began to think we could win, a burly guard rushed me. My legs buckled beneath me and I flew backwards, over the back of a kneeling man. I landed with a thud on the unforgiving ground. My satchel dug into my hip and poor Shiksa fled for the safety of the trees. Kicking my legs up and out, I flipped over my back and jumped to my feet once again.
“Give up, girl,” a guard snarled at me. “We have you surrounded.”
“And yet, you are outmatched.” I flicked the blade of my new opponent into the air, high over his head. Guards d
ove out of the way as the sword came soaring back down.
I spun around to meet my latest challenger. He was a tall young man with a grave expression. “Woman, see reason,” he began as I swung out at him before he could make the first move. Our swords met midair, singing through the clearing with that sharp clank of metal on metal.
As we moved around the clearing, battling until sweat dripped down my temple, I glanced at Arrick who fought just as vigilantly. If he did not give up, how could I?
I remembered my training with Father Garius. Endless hours of practice and discipline. I remembered my favorite line from one of the thousands of texts on war I had to read. “Your muscles will grow tired. Your mind will whisper to give up. Your enemy will try to convince you to quit. But in your heart you will know the truth. You will know you are just one move from victory.”
I let my mind become a tunnel of focused energy. I moved faster than I ever had before, my body darting to the left and then to the right with precise motions. The guard struggled to keep up with me, his hands faltering at just the right moment for the tip of my blade to reach his throat. “My good sir,” I hissed, “see reason.”
I enjoyed the widening of his eyes for only a moment before Arrick’s shout of frustration shook the mighty trees.
He knelt in the middle of the clearing surrounded by guards, their swords pointed at his head. His sword rested on the ground at his feet, but his arms were held out to the side.
I stared in horror, waiting for the kill command. And that was my downfall. Had I not been more concerned with Arrick’s life than my own, I would have noticed the guard sneaking up on me.
A massive hand wrapped around my waist and wrist, wrestling the sword from me in seconds. I fought back, bucking my body against the anchor of his and nailing his nose with the back of my head.
He dropped me with a shout of pain. I rolled out of the way as blood spurted from his nose. My sword had been taken, but I could still fight. I scrambled to my feet and lifted my arms, readying for hand-to-hand combat.
Crown of One Hundred Kings (Nine Kingdoms Trilogy Book 1) Page 14
