“I am deeply sorry for your losses,” he told her. “And yes, we are better able to fend off an attack than the village men, Aileen. I am glad the enemy was not willing to lose more men at the village, a place that was indefensible, so that their assault here could be stronger. But you say, the battle changed when this man, Alistair, and his daughter, Kyleigh, returned?”
“She is not really his daughter; he took her in as an infant when she was abandoned. Alistair is among the elders; he is a wise and good man,” she said earnestly.
“I have sent for the villagers to come here,” he told her. “One of my finest knights, Col, and his wife, Magdalena, have their home in the tower by the river. You stay with Magdalena as we prepare to fight. You will see your people as they arrive.”
He glanced at Reyna, a woman who had cared for him as a child and who was now watching over Aileen, and Reyna hurried over to put an arm around the girl.
He rose, walking past the two and going out to the courtyard.
The Romans had built a podium there. Many legions of Roman soldiers had come and gone through the years, and whoever had been in charge of the fortress at the time had delivered orders from the podium, including those given the day the garrison had left the area. Rowan’s forebearers had struggled to hold the fortress and manage a new living for those who had been left behind.
It remained a fitting place to speak.
Haman had seen to it his men were gathered there. He saw among them not just the knights, the fighting men, but those who worked the land with their hands, masons and more.
He stood on the steps to the central hall.
“We have met a great enemy, the likes of which we have not seen in our lifetimes. But those who came before us, those who fought with the great King Arthur, and those who learned of the Roman ways, have left us prepared. I know you have been working hard to fill the oil barrels to stop those who reach the walls. Archers are prepared. They will come with great siege machines, catapults to rain their death upon us. We must destroy those catapults; our finest archers must line the walls. When they break from the forest, we have among our number those who can sail arrows a far greater distance than any man from the continent. We will prevail! They will attack, and then attempt a siege. They think they will starve us out, but they will not. We have fresh water; good water.”
“Sire! A few hundred or more will flock in from the village!” one of his men called.
“And we will pray they reach us!” Rowan said. “There will be fighting men, adept with weapons, among them. Together, we have lived in peace. We have dealt with minor raiders easily; this will not be easy. But we will prevail.”
He raised his sword and shield, slamming them together.
A battle cry went up, as he had hoped.
Men, he knew, had to believe they could win a battle if they were to do so.
“Prepare!” he cried.
And his men scrambled to obey.
Haman remained at his side.
“What of the villagers?” Rowan asked.
“We have sent men out to meet them along the river. I fear they will not come quickly enough. They will have their injured with them.”
“Col is atop the wall,” Rowan said. “Go to him. If he sees any sign the enemy is preparing for their attack, send a rider downriver. I will ride out myself to try to hurry the survivors along.”
“Sire! You should not risk yourself—”
“A leader, my friend, must risk himself first,” Rowan told him.
“But there could be scouting parties out—”
“I will bring two men with me. And you will see I am informed if Col sees any movement. I do not believe they will come tonight; they will need to regroup and reorganize. Brogan is a hardened commander, I believe. There will be no chance of a surprise attack as he might make against a sleeping village. He has too great an expanse of ground to cover before he reaches these walls.”
“Then perhaps he will do so by nightfall.”
“If he had not lost twice today, yes, I would say so. But he will need to assess the damage his forces sustained today. Not just against us, but if all that we have heard is true, he also lost men against farmers and fishermen.”
“I should go with you myself—”
“Haman, I need you with Col. I trust you to see I am notified if there is anything at all I need to know or even see. We need to get those people in here quickly.”
Haman nodded again.
“Have Matthew and Lucas meet me at the rear gate. We will ride out together.”
Haman hurried to do as Rowan asked.
Rowan watched him a few moments then he moved out and headed for the stables, securing Xander from the stables from Kellen, one of the lads working there.
“Lord Rowan, we will best him, will we not?” Kellen asked anxiously. “Should you ride out and leave us?”
“Only to bring in others and see that we are secure,” Rowan assured him. “We will prevail,” he added, giving the lad a grim smile.
He mounted Xander and rode to the far rear of the fortress and lifted a hand to the men who worked the bridge that crossed the moat to the riverbank. Matthew and Lucas quickly came riding across behind him.
“I pray the villagers have not already been slaughtered,” Matthew said. “As you ordered, we have a small contingent of men who moved on ahead. And I pray—”
“This Brogan cannot spare his people now, not if he is preparing for a major assault,” Rowan said.
Lucas was a young man, barely in his twenties, but he had proven himself already in a small skirmish against a warlike group of Angles.
Rowan smiled. He was barely twenty-two himself, but he felt much older. Probably, he thought, because from the time he had been able to toddle about and mumble a few words, he had been taught the responsibility of the fortress and the ways of defense. His father had been a great and wise man in Rowan’s mind. He had not ever sought to venture out to seize more land after King Alfred had fallen, but rather he had chosen to protect those in his realm and see that architects and masons repaired and strengthened all that was rightfully theirs.
His father had believed in the dream that had been Camelot. And he had taught him well that to protect his people was a lord’s order.
“But, my friends,” he said, looking from Lucas to Matthew, “that Brogan’s army has suffered some grave injuries does not mean he will not send out scouts, or a man or two to seize upon anyone found to bring them down. Brogan is surely aware that to destroy a man’s hope is to win half the battle. Keep sharp eyes out.”
They had ridden for a while when Rowan lifted a hand to stop them, signaling toward the rise of the embankment and the foliage that grew there.
He dismounted, motioning for Matthew and Luke to remain as silent as possible. He crept into the thick brush, hunkering down to listen.
A flock of birds suddenly took flight.
“Kill her!” someone shouted.
“Ah, lass, you should not have wandered in; what a fine piece of female flesh to have to render to death!” another said.
“He said to kill all, Miller, all, lest bear cubs grow to attack. She dies!” the first said.
Rowan no longer needed to move secretively, but rather with speed.
“Aye, a pity, but he is not here to see what is done first!” the second voice said. “I will tame this wildcat—”
His words were abruptly broken off.
Rowan burst into a small clearing.
And he saw the “she” to whom they referred.
She stood tall, red hair caught in the breeze along with the fabric of her tunic. He was close enough to see that her eyes burned with a fierce green fire.
She held a sword before her. A man lay at her feet. The other faced her warily.
He saw Rowan but started to laugh, calling out to others who evidently hid still in the dense brush.
“Denys, Paul! Dray. Here! Battle forth!”
Three invaders burst in upon
the clearing from the right.
The redhaired girl had evidently slain the one man; she could fight. He was a good swordsman and could possibly bring down four of the enemy.
And possibly not.
“Back to back!” Rowan shouted to the girl. He threw his knife at the man who had called the others forth, taking quick but steady aim.
The man went down with a gurgling sound as the knife flew true, catching him in the throat.
The girl understood what he had said. She hurried toward him, and they formed their own shield back to back as those summoned arrived in the clearing.
Swords clashed and the sound rang in the crisp cool air. Two men came at him; they must have judged him the fiercer of their opponents. He parried one sword and caught the other before the man’s sword could slash through his skull. A feint forward brought down one, not dead but dying and screaming as he rolled on the ground.
He did not dare to turn. He found himself praying to the God of Father Peter and the old gods of the earth and sky. He held steady; he could not help the girl if he were killed.
But he saw a move behind him and sprung around, fiercely swinging his sword. The man behind him fell just as the girl stepped forward, sword thrust before her, nearly staking the man through the heart.
He fell. Gasping for breath, they looked at one another. The attackers lay on the earth which was running red with spilled blood.
One still let out a choking sound...but he was dying.
“Are you all right, lass? Sound? Did they harm you?” Rowan asked anxiously.
This was the girl Aileen had spoken about; she had to be. Eyes afire like an emerald caught in the sun, hair like a blaze that could light up a field.
She smiled slowly.
“I am quite all right. And you, good sir, you are whole? Sound?”
He smiled in turn.
“Quite well. Were there others—do you know? I thought Brogan might send out a man or two, but there are five here.”
He came to his feet and offered her a hand. She hesitated and then accepted it. They stood there on the blood-soaked ground looking at one another, aware that it might well have been their blood that fed the earth.
“Five,” he murmured. “They did mean to kill survivors. They did not come just to assess numbers, and yet it is good they were discovered. Brogan will have no one return to tell him about the river and the rear wall to the fortress. How did you come upon them?”
“I saw them lurking, hiding in the woods, but coming toward us. All of us from the village know these woods, better than they might expect. I watched a bit. They saw our wounded, some on horses, some carried; and I am sure they thought us all as easy, vulnerable prey. Which we are! I came around. They laughed and thought they would torment and then kill me.” She shrugged. “They did not realize I would not die easily, nor allow any form of torment. And,” she added, nodding toward him, “they could not know what I did not know myself. They would not battle one, but two.”
“You slipped around them—alone?”
“I had to see how many, what danger they offered my people.”
“But permission was given for you—”
“I did not ask permission.”
“Ah. Well, in future, you must.”
“I did not ask my father. Why would I ask you?”
“Because, dear girl, I am Rowan of Kenzie. Lord Rowan of Kenzie.”
She looked him up and down with her strange, shimmering green eyes.
“We shall see,” she said, and she walked by him apparently anxious to return to her people.
Chapter 3
He was a good man, or so Alistair had told her.
But Kyleigh had been to the fortress at Kenzie maybe four times in her life. The first time she had seen it, she had naturally been in awe. She had been a child of maybe five; and arriving at the great stone wall, she had been amazed by the size.
Kenzie sat on the river, and a moat surrounded the walls. A great drawbridge facing the field lay open most of the time. People from the immediate countryside held fairs there, brought their produce there, their cows and their pigs and more. Some people made beautiful jewelry, and of course, medallions of smooth stone beautifully etched and that might be exchanged for produce or labor.
She could remember touching the stone of the great wall; it was so unique and amazing to her. There were so many towers! One of the eight towers was for unmarried knights and warriors, while the largest was for the lord of Kenzie. One was for his cousin, another for a man who did his bidding, summoning others, calling for games or tournaments or other occasions.
He drilled his men in a great courtyard there, the same vast area where a market might be held at other times. There were many other buildings within the walls and towers, and she didn’t know what all were for, but Alistair told her each tower was also its own defensive post. If an enemy ever breached the walls, defenders might still have an advantage. The towers had been built with stone, but many of the structures within, stables and workshops and more, were built of wood and thatch.
The old lord had been a fine man, one who had waged the wars with Arthur and somehow, in the bitter end, held on to his fortress. He had been kind and generous, tending to others in a time of famine, caring for the wounded, ruling his land justly.
It was said his son was the same. But he was a lord; there was a difference in him, one Kyleigh had already seen. The clothing worn by those in the village was sewn from linen, wool, and sometimes, fur.
Rowan of Kenzie had a tunic of fine wool, acquired from the Byzantine Empire when trade had still flourished, she thought.
Only the rich and powerful could afford such finery, worn even into battle.
Perhaps he was a good man.
Perhaps he had even saved her life.
Kyleigh did not mean to be rude. She was still unsure of herself. She had come upon her strange new powers so suddenly, and she had been scared—terrified—when she had found herself faced with the bloodlust of Brogan’s scouts. And he had come along. Aye, he made a fine enough figure as a lord. He was tall with hair like raven’s wing, it was so dark. His eyes were blue, like the color of the sky. He was clean shaven, but his hair fell to a place right above his shoulders. Those shoulders were broad, as was often the case with a man who had long wielded a sword. His legs were long and solid and his waist was slender.
Indeed, he looked the part of a leader.
She prayed he lived up to his legacy. Her people were now dependent on him.
She hurried ahead of him, wanting to return to the slow-moving trail of villagers. As she did so, she stopped short. Two warriors in similar attire to his and reminiscent of the Roman legion blocked her path. She stared at them, angry she had not heard them because she had been concentrating on Rowan, Lord of Kenzie.
She did not even think to be afraid. She raised her sword daring them.
“Lucas, Matthew, let the girl pass; she is among the villagers,” Rowan said from behind her.
Close behind her; she had not known he was there. She might have a magical sword or power, but she still had so much to learn!
“Aye, sire!” one of the men said, staring at Kyleigh. “We have the horses around the bend. The villagers are just ahead; they will take our mounts for their wounded. I have stressed the matter for hurry.”
“Thank you, Matthew,” Rowan said, striding ahead of Kyleigh. “We met up with a few scouts.”
“Sire! We should have come with you—” the second man said.
“Lucas, we dealt with them. The girl is an unlikely master with a sword,” Rowan said briefly.
He did not say more; he hurried ahead with such long steps that kept Kyleigh all but running to keep up.
The seriously wounded from the village were already on stretchers being pulled along by mounted riders; but others, who had barely been making it, were now on the horses Rowan and his men had been riding. There were three other knights already there; they had come ahead of Rowan, Lucas, an
d Matthew. They, too, had given up their mounts.
Kyleigh had given her mare to a mother who had suffered a severe stab wound to the thigh and rode, carrying her babe in her arms.
Alistair was seeing that the last wounded man was mounted; he turned to Rowan as they arrived and bowed his head.
“Thank you,” he said simply.
“Alistair, I know this is hard for the villagers. I believe it is the right decision. I hope and believe we can stop them. But this man, this Brogan, does know the territory. He has been here in our land sometime before, I have been told, though I do not know him. We will need all our strength, our minds, and all who can wield swords.”
Alistair nodded. “We are glad to take part in any way necessary and thank you for the barrier of your great walls.”
“We should move; I do not believe they will attack by night, but I would like everyone in. Kenzie was built with Roman cunning, but the walls cannot help those outside them,” Rowan said.
Alistair nodded. “We shall move as quickly as possible.” He paused, frowning suddenly. “I see you have met my daughter.”
“Daughter?” Rowan said.
He looked at Kyleigh. Maybe something in her eyes betrayed her fear he would tell Alistair just how they had met. And maybe there was real decency in him.
“Yes, Alistair. We have met.”
He said no more on the subject but raised his voice to be heard up and down the line of people and horses hugging the riverbank at they made their way north. “We do not wish to cause further pain to the injured, but we should make all possible haste. We move!” he cried out.
Daughter of Darkness & Light Page 4
