by Robert Evert
“It comes apart?”
“Not only does it come apart…” Edris said, unscrewing another section, “but it looks like all the pieces can be placed inside each other.”
“Making it easier to hide.”
“Much!” Edris twisted off another segment of the horn. “This is what I want you to do. Go into those thickets and ride your horse around. Make it look like somebody has been camped in there. Then stampede the wagon’s horses in different directions.”
“Ed, you’re inspired. I am sorry I ever doubted you.”
Edris laughed. “We’re not home yet. But I believe we might be able to kill two birds with one horn. Hurry up. We need to make everything look convincing.”
Within an hour after sunrise, Edris could hear the riders coming. Then, moments later, he saw them, thundering toward him. There must have been forty adventurers in all, plus their squires. Swords drawn, they swarmed around Edris and Brago, sitting patiently on their horses.
“I hate to disappoint all of you,” Edris said loudly over the pounding hooves. “But Markus got to it first.” He pointed up the road. “He went that way.”
Several adventurers set off immediately, galloping madly in the direction Edris had indicated. Others searched the woods, making sure the horn wasn’t hidden inside.
“How come you’re not in the hunt?” Sir Conrad asked.
Edris gave a well-rehearsed sigh. “We’ve spent the better part of the night recovering the horses he stampeded. Believe me, we plan on giving chase shortly.”
Sir Hans and Heinrich rode up. Heinrich beamed with pleasure.
“Alas,” Sir Hans said to Edris, “I was afraid you wouldn’t make it far. How much of a head start does Markus have?”
“Two hours,” Edris said. “Not more.”
“Why didn’t he take the wagon?” Sir Conrad asked.
“It’s too slow.” Then thinking quickly, he added, “He tied the horn to another horse. It was listing to one side under its weight. He won’t go far like that.”
Sir Hans chuckled. “He should’ve learned from Sir Royce!”
“He’s not one for learning, I’m afraid. Now, if you gentlemen don’t mind, I have a cousin to overtake.”
For most of the morning, Edris and Brago rode with a group of adventurers, in hot pursuit of the imaginary Markus. Each time the road forked or intersected with other roads, the adventurers split up—some going one way, others going another. When tracks led cross-country to a distant farmhouse, a good many adventurer raced through the fields, searching for clues as to Markus’s whereabouts. By sunset, Edris and Brago were by themselves.
“You’re lucky they didn’t check your pack,” Brago said as they rode leisurely along.
To their right, a hamlet came into view through the trees, budding with new leaves. Smoke from chimneys rose into the blue sky. They could smell somebody’s dinner cooking.
“I took a gamble that nobody else knew the horn came apart.”
“Would you have fought them if they had?”
Edris thought about this.
“No,” he said. “I would’ve run. Remember, they raced out of town and had been galloping for a couple hours. Our horses were well-rested and watered.”
“I never thought you’d ever advocate running over fighting.”
“Like Sir Hans said, only fight when you have a chance of winning. I couldn’t have fought all of them at once. I’m not Barton the Black.”
Their horses clomped along, the early spring breeze bringing with it the hint of growing things.
“I take it we’re not headed directly to Upper Angle,” Brago said.
“Not directly. I think we should pretend to search around for Markus for a few weeks, then gradually make our way northward.”
“And if we come across your cousin? Will you fight or run?”
“Let’s focus on one battle at a time.”
Seventy-Six
Edris paced the royal receiving hall waiting for King Michael. He and Brago had taken their time returning to Upper Angle, often resting for days in whatever town they stumbled across. Here and there, they came across adventurers hunting for the horn. Some questioned Edris about how Markus took it from him. Most appeared to doubt the young knight had ever acquired it. But none suspected the Horn of Borin was hidden in his pack.
The doors to the receiving hall opened, revealing King Michael and a bodyguard.
“Sir Edris!” The joy in the king’s face faded to bewilderment as he glanced about the empty hall. “I was under the impression you brought me another present.”
“Your Highness.” Edris bowed. “I do have something for you.”
He untied the top of his pack.
“It’s in there?” the king asked. “What did you do? Cut it up?”
“Not exactly, sir.” Edris pulled out the disassembled horn. “It comes apart.” He screwed two pieces together. “See?”
“Clever! I thought it was one long piece. I heard Sir Royce had a devil of a time getting it from the mountains to Williamshire.” He leaned forward, examining how the sections fit together. He pointed to drawings scratched into the silver. “What are those?”
“It would appear Sir Royce made some alterations to the horn’s original design.”
The king squinted closer. “Is that…?”
“Yes,” Edris said. “It’s a picture of Sir Borin having sex with a goat.”
The king chortled. “Who would’ve thought the goat would be on top like that?”
Edris fitted another section together. “You should see how he decorated the mouthpiece. I’m not sure anybody will want to blow it again.”
“Two quests in a row.” The king marveled. “You’re a credit to the kingdom and the family. Well done!”
“Speaking of family,” Edris said uneasily. “How’s Markus?”
“He has yet to return; however, I’m sure he’ll turn up as soon as I announce you’ve completed the quest.”
Edris screwed together another section of the horn, this one illustrated with numerous goats having sex with Sir Borin.
“Sir,” he said, wondering whether he should say what was on his mind. “I think you should know Markus and I got into a little…altercation in Williamshire.”
“Look, Eddie,” the king said, unconcerned. “As a father, I might be blind to some of my children’s faults. But as a king, I see more clearly. I understand Markus is going to be jealous of your success. He’s very proud and doesn’t wish to share the adoration of our people. But I’m sure the two of you can work it out.”
“Yes, sir.”
A knowing expression crept over the king’s face. “I also don’t want you to feel as though you have to take me into consideration in these matters. You and Markus are family, but you’re also competitors. The rules of the games allow you to take what the other has. Provided that you both act in accordance with the Code of Honor adventurers are sworn to uphold, you never have to worry about me. When Markus is here, in my halls, he is my son. When he straps on a sword and searches for the-gods-only-know-what, he’s an adventurer. Never confuse the two.”
“Yes, sir.” Edris hesitated, then said, “This altercation was over his squire.”
“Jacob?”
“Yes, sir. You see, somebody killed him, and Markus believes it was me. There’s no truth to this. In fact, I was drinking with a tavern full of knights when it happened. They can all vouch for me.”
“Did these knights vouch for you in front of Markus?”
“Yes, sir. Sir Hans, Sir Conrad…” Edris struggled to remember all of the knights’ names. “They all told Markus in no uncertain terms that I was with them when Jacob was murdered.”
“And Markus didn’t believe them.”
“No, sir.”
“I see. You’re worried about some sort of retribution.”
“I’d want it if the tables were reversed.”
The king nodded solemnly. “I’ll take care of Markus. I’ll host a formal
inquiry and invite the knights you mentioned. We’ll get this all cleared up. You two will be friends again before you know it.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Edris fitted together the last piece of the horn.
“Sir Royce did that?” Grimacing, the king inspected the mouthpiece. “He wasn’t much of an artist, but he certainly got his point across.”
Seventy-Seven
King Michael offered to throw Edris a celebratory dinner honoring the young knight’s second official win, but Edris declined. He’d been away for the better part of five months and was eager to see Beatrice.
A couple weeks earlier, he’d sent her a letter from Lower Angle. But he had to keep his wording ambiguous for fear another adventurer might read it. So he simply said that he missed her and would return as soon as he found “that blasted horn.” He also sent her a poem he’d written about willow trees.
Riding into Bend, Edris stopped and picked a bouquet of tulips and crocuses growing by the road. He then raced to the small brick house he’d purchased for Beatrice and her family. Jogging up to the door, he knocked a little more enthusiastically than what would’ve been considered polite.
The door popped opened to reveal Beatrice’s elderly father.
“Eddie,” he said, his annoyance changing to surprise. “Or should I say Sir Edris?” He gave as much of a bow as his age would allow.
“It’s always Eddie to you, sir.” Edris gazed past the old man, hoping to see his daughter in the room behind him. Instead, he noticed a bunch of new furniture and expensive wall hangings. “Is Bea home?”
The old man appeared stunned, then apprehensive. “Didn’t you get her letters?”
“Yes, sir. I got them. Well, I got three of them. Why? What’s wrong? Is she okay?”
“I don’t know how many she sent, but there were definitely more than three.” He looked up at Edris, girding himself for something unpleasant. “She’s not here, Eddie. She got married a few weeks ago.”
“M—married?” Edris gasped. “To whom?”
“To a very nice gentleman. I believe you know him—Lord Braverton?”
“Lord…Braverton?” Edris repeated, trying to exhale. “Bea married Lord Braverton?”
“Yes. Your father introduced them, in fact. He said you’d be happy for her.”
Suddenly everything felt cold. Edris looked around for something to sit on, but ended up leaning against the door, blinking.
“His Highness courted Beatrice for a couple months,” her father went on. “Then he asked my permission for her hand. I said yes, of course. A complete gentleman he was. Came here and everything. He even offered me and Beatrice’s mother a house in his fiefdom. But I didn’t want to travel so far, so he gave us enough money to get along here without her. She says she’ll come home regularly, but with children—”
“Children!” Edris’s chest grew heavy.
“Yes. They plan on having children straight away. He was particularly interested in knowing that I’m one of seven boys. Apparently, he has daughters from a previous marriage and he—”
“My father,” Edris said, trying to stay upright. “When…when did he introduce Bea to Braverton? Do you remember the day?”
“Not exactly,” Beatrice’s father replied, confused. “It was in November. Early November, if I remember. You had just left.”
“I’d just left?”
“Yes. Beatrice was all mopey and sad, and that’s when Lord Elros came by.”
Edris gritted his teeth. “Father!”
Not waiting to hear more, Edris sprang onto his horse and raced to his father’s manor. By the time he arrived, it was well after midnight. He galloped past the guards shouting their congratulations and rode to the front door of the main house. He stormed in, searching for his father. He found him drinking brandy in his study.
“Edris!” His father got to his feet and came forward, arms outstretched. “Congratulations on—”
Edris’s fist rocked his head back, blood and snot flying into the air. The Lord of Bend fell against his desk, scattering piles of papers to the floor.
Lord Elros drew a hand under his nose, looked at the blood, then his son.
“I suppose,” he said evenly, “this has something to do with that woman.”
“You had no right interfering!” Edris shouted.
“Why? Because you loved her?” his father asked mockingly.
“Absolutely!”
“You don’t know what love is! Love is mourning your loss—even years after she’s dead. Love is being with only one woman, no matter how many whores throw themselves at you. Love is giving up everything for the woman you want to spend the rest of your life with.”
“I would’ve—!”
“No, you wouldn’t. You had all the opportunities in the world to be with her, and you chose to be an adventurer.”
“That’s because of you!”
“Because of me?” his father repeated. “You’re the one who went to the king and begged to be knighted. You’re the one who chose questing over the military. Had you done what I told you, things would’ve turned out differently. The king’s brat would be dead, and you would’ve distinguished yourself as a military hero. And yes, you might have even had a beautiful peasant for a wife.”
Breathing hard, Edris was about to ask if he would’ve approved of the marriage, but he knew that his father would say “yes”—if only to torment him.
“Where were you when she needed you?” his father went on. “Hmm? Where were you, Ed? She needed you and you were out playing your games.”
“I gave her money! I bought her a house!”
“Money and a house? Is that what you think women want?” Lord Elros found a handkerchief and pressed it to his bleeding nose. “Women want security. They want to know they’ll be safe and protected and will never starve. They want to be held and loved.”
“I—!”
“You did nothing but treat her like your own personal whore.”
Edris sucked in air.
Lord Elros smiled. “Do you know who came to Bend a couple weeks ago?” he asked. “The king’s god-damned son. And guess who he was looking for? It wasn’t you.”
“Markus was looking for Bea?”
“That’s right,” his father said, gloating. “And what do you think he was going to do to her? Who was going to protect her? Not you. Not the great Sir Edris. You were off playing adventurer. She needed you and you weren’t there. I gave her somebody who would take care of her. I gave her wealth and security. By the gods, Ed. Think! She went from being one step above being a homeless harlot to a lady of standing. Her son will be a lord. You should be thanking me!”
“Thanking you?” Edris hollered. “You didn’t do this to help her. You never do anything to help anybody but yourself! You did this to keep us apart, so I’d focus on winning!”
“Either way, I did what was best. Now—” He pointed at the door. “—get the hell out. You’re no longer my son. You’re a worthless sack of shit who will never win another quest. You’re nothing without me. Do you hear me? You’re nothing but a big, soft loser who won’t even protect the people who matter to him.”
Epilogue
Edris sat on the edge of his bed at the Crooked River, Bend’s only inn.
He had his horse, his swords, a few sets of clothes, his pack, chainmail that didn’t fit, and the remainder of the six hundred gold that the king had given him for finding the Horn of Borin—but that was it. He was officially disowned. He was alone.
He put his face in his hands, his father’s words spinning in his tired head.
You were off playing adventurer. She needed you and you weren’t there.
On the table next to his bed, the lantern flame bobbed and danced.
His father was right. He wasn’t there. He had Beatrice’s letters for weeks before he finally got around to replying. He got so wrapped up in the adventure, he didn’t want to think about anything else.
Come home—PLEASE!
Those were the last words she ever sent him.
Could he have stopped the wedding?
Maybe Bea wanted to marry Braverton. After all, like his father said, she was now a lady of standing. And she’d never have any wants or needs that wouldn’t go fulfilled. Her children would be noble.
Children …
The thought of Beatrice sleeping with Braverton made Edris want to vomit—and cry.
What was he going to do? Should he go talk to her? Should he fight for her?
Edris peered through the window at the sleeping town. A block over from the inn stood the small brick house he’d purchased for Beatrice and her family.
Maybe he should’ve gotten her something bigger and nicer.
No. His father was right about that as well. Bea didn’t want money or dresses, or big houses. She wanted to feel safe and loved. And, for a time, she wanted him…even if he was only a poor farmer.
What had he done?
He thought about his brothers. Would they adhere to their father’s wishes and shun him? Probably in public. But he couldn’t imagine Edros or Edran completely abandoning him. Edran was the lord-in-waiting. He’d have to do what their father wished—or else. But even he would eventually send word once he learned what had happened. Perhaps they would intervene and convince his father—
There was a tender tapping on his door.
Edris straightened, wondering if he was hearing things.
The tapping resumed.
Edris heaved himself off the bed.
“Bea?”
Wiping away his tears, he opened the door.
A glint of steel flashed, then pain sliced across his right ribs.
Crying out, Edris staggered. “Son of a bitch!” He clutched his side. Blood seeped between his fingers.
Markus tottered into the room, reeking of alcohol. He pointed a bloody dagger at Edris. “You!”
Edris considered diving for his swords leaning against the wall, but thought better of it.
“Put the dagger away, Markus.”
“You killed Jacob!” he said, his watery eyes going in and out of focus.
Edris retreated, leaving a trail of blood on the floor.
“No, I didn’t. And that’s the truth. I have witnesses who’ll—”
