by LeRoy Clary
“Hold on,” she ordered as she began brushing my hair with her fingers, then my face and she worked down to my waist. I did the same for her.
I cannot say she looked that much better when I finished, but at least she wouldn’t scare anyone. We walked out on the road and pretended we were a couple out for a stroll—if anyone noticing us also ignored the sword I carried in my hand, the torn knees in my pants, and the spiderwebs clinging to odd places.
“Now what?” she asked me.
“We sneak into the Black Swan where our clothes and things are.”
“And then?” She asked as if I should have the answers to all her questions.
“We contact the king and hitch a ride on a ship sailing to the Brownlands.”
To my surprise, those answers seemed to satisfy her. We walked behind a slow wagon pulled by a lazy mule because it hid us from people walking towards us, and those coming from behind were so anxious to pass they never looked in our direction.
Two soldiers rushed past, talking about the battle waging in the castle. I decided not to ask them any questions since they sounded as confused as us. We entered the main part of the upper city and spotted the inn from a distance.
We trudged nearer and a familiar carriage pulled from the stables and raced our way. As it neared us, Honest Bran leaped from the seat and said, “I’ve been worried. Where have you been? Never mind, there is a war that started last night. I thought you might be caught up in it.”
I considered telling him we had started it.
He rumbled on, “I heard all about the princess who wore a crown of light. She was dressed exactly like you were.” His eyes were on Elizabeth, now crowned with a few strands of straw and more than a few remnants of cobwebs.
Bran helped us into the carriage, telling us about the army getting ready to sail, the recovery of the king’s health, and the rumors that four mages were dead, but two others had hidden away. We arrived at the front door and the coachman rushed to our aid, then as he got a good look at us, he halted.
“Yes, yes, I know we’re a mess,” Elizabeth snarled. “We need baths and we need them now.” She climbed down without his help and strode inside, past the matron at the tall desk, and turned to take the small stairway at the end of the counter without another word.
I meekly followed.
She stormed into our room and ordered me to my alcove, as she let the leather hat spin from her fingertips and fly across the room Her boots were kicked off before I could get around her, and she was untucking her shirt as I pulled the curtain.
I slowly pulled my boots off, and knowing she was going to take a while, I stuck my head into the hallway and called for food. I settled on my sofa and fell asleep to the sound of water pouring and splashing.
She woke me and I got into the tub with the water she’d allowed to cool. The harsh soap woke my skin up and I tingled all over, but the feel of cobwebs wouldn’t go away. My fancy clothing from the ball was tattered, the knees were torn, no amount of cleaning was going to help them.
I put on another set of new things and joined Elizabeth. She wore a simple dress that managed to look impressive. We walked down the stairs together and entered the dining room where we were greeted by an excited buzz of conversation.
The topic was the same at every table in the room. A battle had broken out, mages were being hunted, the army was marching, and the king was well. His illness had been overcome. Cured. However, there were few facts and a lot of guesses. Nobody paid us any attention. I whispered, “We know more than them.”
Elizabeth said, “Bran knows more than these people.”
I stood with her and we went out the back way where the stable was located. He appeared as if by magic, in his carriage. We climbed inside, she sat beside him again.
“Where to?”
“Just a ride around Malawi and some talk,” she said. “Hear any good rumors today?”
He laughed, “I don’t know what you did last night, but everyone is talking about the princess with the gold crown, which I suppose is you.”
She pulled a coin and placed it in his hand. “Before I forget to pay you. We’ll be leaving soon.”
His face paled. “Too much.”
“I only pay what a service is worth to me. You’ve been here and looked out for us.”
“I cannot accept this,” he tried handing it back to her.
Elizabeth turned to face him. “I am a princess and will meet with your king this evening. We will need you to take us to the castle, but are you forcing me to tell him you have insulted me?”
He broke out in a grin—and then it faded slowly. “Your meeting might be delayed. The castle is a dangerous place today. A small army slipped inside and is hunting down any royalty or supporters of the crown. The loyal army has been locked out of the south wing where the king and his family is located. The mages are advancing on them.”
She said, “And the invaders are in the south wing?”
“Yes,” he said.
She pointed to the castle looming high above us. “Which is the south wing?”
He pointed to the wall above the tunnel we’d emerged from. Instead of the reaction I expected, which was to charge up the hill and enter the tunnel, she turned to quiet introspection. Then she said, “Is there an armorer that sells bows nearby?”
He turned a corner and sped up. He said, “You cannot go inside.”
She refused to answer. People on the street scattered at our approach, a few shouted insults as we raced past them, but Bran only shouted for the horse to run faster and used his whip to get them moving faster. He finally pulled to a halt and pointed to a doorway. A placard beside the door held a stylized bow.
She leaped out of the carriage before I could, and I followed her inside. A customer was talking to a man, but she stepped between them. “Excuse my rudeness but I need two short bows and arrows right away.”
The dour customer smirked and said as an insult, “I suppose you’re going to practice your archery? That’s why you interrupt my discussion? You can wait until I’m finished.”
“I intend to defend Malawi today. And your king,” she snapped, then turned to the shop owner. “Now, enough talk, show me your weapons or face my wrath.”
Behind her, Honest Bran said to the shopkeeper, “Better do it. Either that, or I’ll tell your wife about that wench at the roundhouse you’ve been sneaking off to see.”
“Short bows, you say?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
There are times when it is just better to do as Elizabeth says without asking questions or arguing. The weapons seller seemed to understand. He excused himself from his customer and moved quickly to where the bows were hung in neat rows. Those on the top row were smaller, highly curved, and thick. He considered them, selected one, and held it before us as he touted its qualities.
Elizabeth snatched it from his hands and strung it angrily. She tested the pull and it met her needs. No sense of listening to a sales pitch. She asked, “Arrows? And a target?”
He motioned to a hallway that had been converted to shoot; the rear wall a target with straw behind crude images of animals. She fit an arrow and let it fly. No aiming. Just pulled and released. The arrow struck high.
She thrust it at me.
I found the pull stronger than expected, but no problem.
She said to me, “A weapon for small spaces like inside caves or tunnels.”
“Fine,” I said, and she whirled on the seller.
“We’ll take another just like it, two full quivers to fit on belts, and please be quick about it.”
“Three of everything,” Bran said firmly.
It was easier for Elizabeth to agree than argue. The stunned customer watcher her pay, refuse to wait for the few coins from where she paid too much, and I was fastening a quiver to my belt as I walked behind our driver who was doing the same. Once in the carriage and moving, I said to him, “What are you doing?”
“This is my city. I’ll help defe
nd it.”
“You don’t understand,” I said, intending to tell him more and pausing to decide what and how much.
Elizabeth said in my stead, “We escaped the palace through a hidden tunnel. There sounded like an entire army chasing us. When we go back inside, through that same tunnel, they may be waiting for us. If not, we’re going to search for the king. It will be dangerous.”
Bran followed her directions and as we arrived, he said, “I think I understand. The king and his sons are trapped in the south wing. The loyal army, last I heard, was preparing to mount an offensive, but the castle was constructed to withstand a direct attack. We’ll go inside and fight.”
Elizabeth said, “Stealth can be more valuable than a hundred men attacking directly. A thousand well-trained troops in a hallway wide enough for four is no different than fifty. Not my words, but those of my father’s Weapons-Master, the man who taught both of us to fight.”
I couldn’t help myself. “Bran, you really need to reconsider. The mages have a small army inside and there are only two of us.”
He said as we stopped and climbed down from the carriage, “Then I am half of the size of your army. How can you turn me away? Besides, I am fighting for my king. What are you fighting for?”
“My king,” I answered as I carried my short bow in my left hand and adjusted the quiver, so it didn’t bounce on my leg as we back-tracked to find the tunnel entrance.
I always preferred a longbow, and as I realized the confined area inside the tunnel, I understood Elizabeth’s insistence on the short ones. Besides, they are very fast to draw and release, even if the arrows don’t fly as far. My sword hung on my other side and I knew that by the end of the day, my new scabbard would be as tattered as my old one.
At the wooden door, we waited. There would be no candles to light our way, this time. Darkness was our friend; a candle would tell anyone at the far end exactly where we were and make us perfect targets.
I fought both to enter first. Bran insisted on going second, for which I appreciated. We crawled far slower than the last time and were quiet. The light fled until darkness was complete. I moved with one hand groping in front. Finally, my fingers felt the hidden door.
“We’re here,” I whispered. My gut told me to issue orders, at least tell them the door would be opened slowly, and to have arrows ready.
Instead, I felt Bran wiggle to my side, so when I opened the door, he would have an arrow ready. I placed my bow in front of me, next to an arrow. Then I slowly lifted the bottom of the door and light seemed to flood inside. One soldier sat on the sofa, arms crossed, his head bobbing as he napped on duty.
I felt Bran tense. I swung the door up. Bran’s arrow flew ten steps to the soldier who had only enough time to jerk his head up to see us before the arrow pierced his throat and pinned itself to the wall, along with the soldier.
We waited. Bran had another arrow ready, but we saw and heard nothing. Bran moved ahead, I scooted back, and after he got his legs under him, took my wrists and lowered himself silently. As I followed, it occurred to me that if any enemy walked into the room, I was helpless. Well, I was but Bran now stood to one side, an arrow ready to protect me.
My feet were silent when I landed. Elizabeth was already halfway out, and she turned to face back inside the tunnel as she lowered herself. Her feet touched my shoulders and I knelt. She leaped off.
There were two candles at opposite ends of the room. I snuffed one, while Bran did the other. The light streaming through the busted doorframe gave us plenty to see by, but from outside, in the larger suite of rooms, we’d be hard to see.
I moved ahead, careful to be quiet and stay out of the direct light. There were two guards sitting at a table, sharing a bottle of wine. One of them called to another who was lying on the bed. I held up three fingers and heard the scuff of a boot near the doorway to the hall, but out of my sight.
Four fingers. I pointed to where the table was and held up two and pointed to Bran. He nodded. I pointed at Elizabeth and held up one and placed my hand to my ear as if sleeping. She understood. She would take the one in bed. That left the unseen guard.
He would be mine. I had two choices. He might charge into the room and I could take him out then, but he might shout a warning first, and he might run the other way and escape and warm our enemies. My choices were to wait or go to him.
I stepped in front of Bran. Elizabeth would have the most time since her single target was in bed, so she went last. I touched the end of my bow to Bran’s arm and listened. The two men at the table laughed.
The time was right. I darted inside the room drawing the attention of the two at the table but ignored them. They had no weapons in their hands. As I rounded the end of a wall, arrow nocked and ready, a startled guard at the door turned. I fired and hit him in the chest. He spun and I saw the shouted warning coming as he drew a breath and temporarily ignored the arrow protruding like the lone branch on a tree.
I dived and clamped my hand over his mouth just as a wail started to emerge. If there was a guard outside the door, he heard the noise and I was defenseless. I glanced over my shoulder and found I was not. Bran knelt behind me, an arrow ready to take out anybody who entered the doorway. Elizabeth was at his side an instant later.
That told me they had killed their men and mine had quit struggling. I stood and took him by his feet and slid him around the corner of the wall and placed him near the bed where none of them would be seen without entering the main room.
A solid sound followed by a grunt spun me. Bran drug another who had been outside the door in the hallway and placed him beside the others. He then pulled the arrows from all five, discarded two that were damaged, and put the others in his quiver. He looked expectantly at me—as if I knew what to do.
My plan had ended with the capture of the rooms we stood inside.
I remembered when we had been shown the hidden room by the prince. It had been the last room in the hallway that ended a few steps away. That was good. If the mages had posted men in that room, the one directly across the hall had them too. We could work our way down the hall and check every room without fear of them moving in behind us.
The door across the hall opened into an empty suite of rooms.
We moved to the next empty one, and then the next.
At the end, the door Bran threw open held two men. They were startled at the appearance of us and at the appearance of an arrow striking the chest of the other. Bran pulled the door closed in case either called out, then when we had another arrow ready, he opened it. They were on the floor, dead.
We were at a crossroads. Literally. The hallway continued on, but another crossed in front of us. Three ways to choose from. To our right, the sound of a scuffle warned us. A muffled order was given. The sounds of running feet followed.
We turned that way. We paused while Bran opened every door along the way, then as all were vacant, we moved on. The corridor turned and we clearly heard the sounds of a battle. Bran poked his head around the corner enough to see, then pulled back.
He whispered, “Twenty of them in the hall, all with bows and swords. Beyond are maybe five of the king’s defenders.”
He didn’t have to say more. As one, we charged around the corner into the hall and let our nocked arrow fly as we pulled our bows together. Then another. I vaguely saw three go down as I let my next arrow go. It struck the nearest to us, just as Elizabeth’s struck him, also. We were shooting men in the back and watching them fall until then.
A shout spun their heads and there were about fifteen either getting ready to shoot at us or charge. We leaped back around the corner, but not before the five at the end of the hall realized we were there to help, and they now fired at the backs of the enemy. We had them in a crossfire.
Bran whispered intently, “Back. Get into a room and poke your head out long enough to shoot when they come.”
We ran. Elizabeth took the first on the left, me the second. Bran took one across the hall, but I n
ever looked back there. Six or seven men rounded the corner of the hall almost together, two of them waving swords and shouting to unnerve us. It worked.
Not well enough, however, as we all emerged just enough to loose one arrow and duck inside to fit another to the string. Our second volley struck three more who were almost on us. One fell at my feet.
One charged inside the room with me, swinging his sword wildly and almost cutting me in half. I managed to dodge while my sword appeared in my hand and blocked his thrust. He was no swordsman, and as I blocked his blade forcing it to one side, mine slashed neck-high on the return swing. Blood splattered.
My sword moved as if it had met no resistance, it was so sharp. The blade had cut as easily as slicing air.
Elizabeth called and I ran from the room. She was at the corner again, grappling with a soldier holding a knife. My legs churned, my sword held high, as an arrow whipped past my arm and struck the knife-holder in his back. She shoved him aside and scrambled to her feet.
I ran around the corner, my sword ready to take on whoever might be there. The odd keening rang in my ears. My sword was singing to me.
The first man I saw was the prince, his sword in hand, his eyes on his blade. I knew what he heard. He limped in our direction, blood streamed down his left arm, and he managed a smile. “We thought you dead.”
“Your father?”
“Inside.” He motioned with his arm and winced in pain.
“Damon,” Elizabeth gasped.
I turned to find a fuzzy orange ball of light nearly filling the hallway from floor to ceiling, slowly moving in our direction, an attack with magic by a mage. My reaction was to flee, like everyone else. But I didn’t.
The orange should have been bright red and nearly solid. How I knew that was somehow strange, but the swirling mist was also thinner than it should be, the entire thing more of a poor illusion than a ball of fire rushing to burn our skin black. I stood and drew from the wall of air from behind me, compacting it, then releasing it as a sudden gust of wind.
The orange dissipated in a swirl of faint orange and behind it were five men, all with bows drawn, pointed at me. I dived to the floor.
