by Robert Thier
She returned Reuben's wide-eyed gaze and saw fear and anger boiling there.
“Tell me what you said again,” he demanded.
“What I said? That Luca isn't as clever as he thinks he is?”
“Not that! What you said when you saw your twenty men weren't enough to defend the bridge!”
“I...” Ayla floundered for a moment. “You mean... you mean that I called for everybody to come help defend the bridge?”
Reuben paled and a low growl escaped his throat.
“I don't understand. What's so bad about everybody coming to help?”
His gray eyes were intense—full of anger, fear, and... pity as they looked at her.
“Don't you see, Ayla?” he said. “Everybody. Everybody—including the river patrols.”
It took a moment for the meaning of his words to sink in. When it did, a cold hand gripped Ayla and froze her in place. She was speechless. Paralyzed. Not able to move or think. God, what had she done?
“Luca must have planned this all along,” she heard Reuben's voice as if from very far away. “The surprise attack at night, bringing nearly all his forces to bear down on you at once—it was just a distraction. As we speak, dozens of his men are probably just climbing out of the boats they have crossed the unprotected river in.”
“Yes.” Was that her talking? No, she couldn’t be talking. She was speechless, after all. It had to be someone else, using her mouth. This felt so unreal...
“Ayla!”
“W-what?”
“Ayla, pull yourself together!”
Ayla's head swam. The mere idea that while she was calmly sitting in this room talking to Reuben, the Margrave's men might be advancing towards the village, bent on destroying anything in their path... no, not might be. Were. They were across, they were coming, because of her foolishness. This couldn't be happening.
“Go! Ayla, go!”
Somebody grabbed her by the arm and pushed. Blinking, she stared down at the man before her. Oh yes. Reuben. He was here. What did he want from her?
“Go!” he snarled again. “Go now!”
Somehow, she managed to find her voice. “W-what do you mean, go?”
“Go, ride out there! There might still be time! If the Margrave's men landed far enough from the bridge and the village so as not to attract attention, they might need some time to march there. Ride out and warn your people! Bring everybody back with you to the castle. You've had them prepare for an emergency retreat, haven't you?”
“Yes... I ... but...”
“No buts! You have to go, now!”
Ayla could see that he was right about everything. She had to leave and bring everyone to safety. Well, almost everything. There was something that had to be done before she went.
The realization pierced her more painfully than any pain in her life ever had. This was it. The end.
She swallowed, hard.
“Yes,” she said. “I must ride. But there's one thing that must happen first.”
“What?”
“You must leave.”
“What?” Reuben looked completely taken aback. It was such a funny expression, his wild, black hair sticking out in all directions, his gray eyes wide open, that Ayla would have laughed—if she hadn't felt so terribly heartbroken.
“Don't you see,” she choked out, moisture beginning to brim her eyes. “It's your last chance! If the enemy has really crossed the river, we will soon be surrounded—then the true siege will begin! No one will get in and... and no one will get out. This is your last chance to escape.”
Reuben's face was impassive. “I thought I was too ill to travel, that it would kill me, even more surely than staying here would.”
“You were, Reuben. You were too ill. But you've made an amazing recovery over the last couple of days. You can manage a short horse ride, I'm sure. I'll help you down to the stables, you can pick any horse you want. Just ride fast, and make sure these filthy villains don't catch you. I couldn't bear it if something happened to you.”
Slowly, his face still not showing any emotion, Reuben reached up and cupped her face with his right hand. She felt as though she might splinter into a thousand painful pieces.
“They won't catch me, Ayla.”
Oh. So he was a good rider. That was good, wasn't it? She wanted him to ride away quickly, didn't she? She wanted him to be safe. Yes, she definitely wanted that.
“Because,” Reuben added, not taking his eyes or his hand off her face, “I am not leaving.”
What?
“But you must! You must leave!”
“Telling me what to do now, Milady?” He cocked an eyebrow. “You forget, I'm not one of your vassals, you can't order me about as you please.”
“I... I don't mean that you have to go because I said so,” Ayla said, trying without much success to suppress the swell of joy in her heart. “I mean you have to go for your own safety.”
“Well, I give a devil's pisspot about my safety,” Reuben said, with a grin that very nearly made her laugh. What was the matter with her? Enemy soldiers were marching up towards her castle and she was happy because a man had decided to stay here?
Then again, the man in question was Reuben.
“Why, for heaven's sake?” she demanded, half desperate, half ecstatic. “Why would you want to stay?”
He shrugged, but then fixed her with a very determined, very intimate gaze. “I just think there are things here worth staying for. Unfinished business.”
Ayla's heart jumped with hope and anticipation. “Like what?” she whispered.
Reuben's grin turned mischievous. “Like my compensation, for instance. I still haven't received a penny for all my lost wares. I can't go without my compensation, now, can I?” Cocking his head, he threw her an innocent look.
Ayla didn't know whether she wanted to kiss or kill him in that moment.
Finally, she leaned closer, grasped his collar and with his face barely two inches away from hers, breathed:
“I have to go save my people now. When I get back, we'll see about your compensation.”
God! What had possessed her to say that? She was not even sure what his words had meant—and even less sure what he would make of her response. Oh dear Lord...
“Ayla?”
She blinked, interrupted in the middle of her thought—and thankful for it. She had to go! She had to ride, or her people would be lost. But she was so close to his beautiful face, and it was so easy to get lost in his gray eyes...
“Y-yes, Reuben?”
“I love you.”
For a moment, Ayla thought that time stood still—or maybe just her heart did. Had she really just heard that? Three little words that turned her world on its head? No, she couldn't think, couldn't indulge. Not now. She had to ride!
Impulsively, she threw her arms around Reuben and hugged him close. “Thanks!”
Then she was on her feet and out the door in a flash. She had to ride! A horse! A kingdom for a horse!
High Road Up
Reuben stared at the door Ayla had left open, listening to her receding footsteps, completely dumbfounded.
Thanks?
What the hell was that supposed to mean? Reuben had extensive experience in romance, garnered in his time at the Imperial Court where his charming smile had been the talk of all the ladies. He knew his business. When you told somebody you loved them, you expected an answer like “I love you too” or “Well, too bad” or maybe “Go fornicate with yourself!”
But “Thanks”? What was he supposed to make of that? It was no way to answer a man who had just opened his heart to you!
All right, maybe he hadn't chosen quite the best time for his confession. She had been in a bit of a hurry to save her people from sudden and violent death. But she could have stayed for a quick “I love you too.” It would only have meant two dead peasants, at most.
Or, an unwelcome thought intruded, maybe she would not have said that, even if she'd had all the time in the wo
rld...?
Reuben shook his head.
No. She had said thanks. That had to mean she wanted this, wanted him—didn't it? No woman had ever been able to resist his charms before, and neither would Ayla.
Probably.
His gaze returned to the open door. Her footsteps were almost inaudible now. So faint, then even fainter, then... gone.
His hands clenched into fists.
Oh, how he burned with the wish to go with her. And yet, he had held his tongue, had stayed where he was, knowing all too well why.
He was only one man—out there were hundreds. He was still sick—they were fit and strong. As much as Reuben hated to admit it, he couldn't protect Ayla from the Margrave's men all by himself. Not yet.
Worse than not being able to protect her, he would have hindered her. He might be recovering, but he still was not fit to ride at full gallop. The damned weakness was still in his bones, by Satan's warty prick and all the pricks of his little demons! If he had ridden with her, and then had fallen off his horse, she would have stopped and he would have been her doom. She needed to be fast now, faster than she had ever been.
No, he could not save her from the enemy tonight. Only the hoofs of a fast horse could.
Turning away from the door and over to the window, he stared into the darkness of the night outside. Far, far below, down on the path into the valley, he thought he saw for a moment a flash of white and gold.
But maybe it was simply his imagination.
In his head, he saw again Ayla's face as she clasped her arms around his neck and whispered into his ear: Thanks!
With an angry growl, he punched the wall, so hard his knuckles started to bleed. Curse the girl! She damned well ought to have stayed a minute longer. What were two dead peasants, or maybe three, compared to his agony?
*~*~**~*~*
Ayla brought the horse to a halt at the point where the path into the valley forked. One way led directly to the village, the other to the bridge, where the soldiers were. If she hadn't been as well-bred as she was, she would have cursed. She should have thought of this before! Where to go first? Whom to warn first—the soldiers or the villagers? Whose life to put at risk?
Strategically, it made more sense to ride to the bridge. The soldiers there would be an invaluable part of the castle's defense in the coming days. Any coolly calculating general would put the safe return of the soldiers over the lives of villagers who would just be a nuisance in any real battle.
Ayla's horse nickered beneath her and pranced, as if sensing her indecision.
Villagers... who had children...
Yes, any real general would go for the soldiers. But she was no general.
Suddenly decided, she pulled on the reins and turned the horse towards the village, driving it to the fastest possible gallop. In front of the first house on the edge of the village, she jumped off the animal's back. Rushing to the homestead's door, she started hammering on the rough wood until the door was opened by a sleepy-looking peasant, whose nose she nearly bashed in with her fist, still raised to knock.
It took one or two seconds for the sleepy man to recognize her—then his eyes suddenly went wide. “L-lady Ayla, what...”
“There's no time,” she cut him off. “Get your family together, wake everybody in the village up, and head for the castle! Now!”
“Head for the castle? In the middle of the night? Milady, I...”
“There's no time!” She was almost shouting now. “You've been preparing, haven't you?”
“Yes, but...”
“No buts,” she repeated Reuben's words. “They're coming.”
If possible, the eyes of the peasant widened even more at this revelation. Behind him, the anxious faces of his wife and children appeared.
“The soldiers?” he whispered, and his wife crossed herself.
“Yes! Now get moving and get everyone out of here!”
Turning, she strode back to her horse, her cloak and nightgown flowing behind her.
“What about you, Milady?”
“I have to go to the bridge,” she called, swinging herself into the saddle. “Do as I've told you! And woe betide you if a single man, woman, or child is left behind! I'll see to it that you spend the rest of the week in the stocks!”
Paling, the man nodded.
Ayla didn't waste any time to see if he did as she had commanded. She had no time to waste. Not a second. Wishing for once that she wasn't as well-bred and could urge her horse on with a few good, solid curses, she drove it into the night as fast as it would go. She definitely knew enough curses by now. Her acquaintance with Reuben had been very educational.
Reuben.
Oh no, she couldn't think about Reuben right now. She had to concentrate. She had a job to do. She couldn't indulge and...
He said he loves me.
...think about three certain words he had spoken. No, she definitely couldn't. Not now. Not here.
I—love—you. He said it. To me. It really happened.
Besides, those little words were hardly that important, compared to the hundreds of lives that were at stake at the moment. They had only been three in number, and very little.
Yes. But he said them to me. Reuben. To me.
Suddenly, her horse snorted, just in time for Ayla to veer left and avoid hitting a tree. Tree? Wait, she was supposed to be riding on the path to the bridge! There were no trees on that path, were there? Come to think of it, there weren't any trees on any path. That was what paths were all about, being treeless!
Accursed distraction! She had been so lost in thought that she had veered off the path. She knew she shouldn't have started thinking about those... three... words...
He loves me.
Ayla did her best to steer her horse back out of the bramble and onto the path. It wasn't very easy, though. She was hardly able to contain the tumult of emotions inside her. Somewhere, some mad part of her felt insanely happy while at the same time she was terribly worried for everybody who was in mortal danger right now, which in turn made her feel guilty for feeling happy, which however didn't make her feel any less happy, just miserable at the same time. This was all so confusing!
Was this really love? Love was always easier for the ladies in the courtly ballads. But then, these ladies always had a knight to save them. Whom did she have? An arrogant, opinionated, loud-mouthed merchant.
Her arrogant, opinionated, loud-mouthed merchant.
And he had stayed. In spite of the danger, he had stayed. For his... compensation. Ayla didn’t quite know why, but she didn't feel about that like she used to feel about it. She used to get angry when he said it. Now she felt a delicious and unfamiliar shiver run through her whenever he did. Why? He meant money, surely, didn't he?
Didn't he?
What if...
“Milady!”
The shout ripped her from her thoughts, which was probably a good thing, seeing as she was just about to run into another obstacle, much larger than a tree: she had nearly reached the barricade. In front of her appeared a startled Captain Linhart, holding a torch aloft. The flickering, orange light painted strange, nightmarish shadows across his face.
“Milady, to what do we owe the...?”
“Sound the retreat,” she yelled at him, without bothering to get off her horse. “Withdraw to the castle!”
Captain Linhart stared at her as if she was speaking a foreign tongue. “But Milady, if we retreat the enemy will...”
“Do as I say, Captain!”
For a moment, he measured her with his eyes. Then he abruptly turned to his men and began shouting orders. A signal horn sounded and the men gathered, clambering off the barricade in a frenzy. Soon, they were gathered on the dark meadow in a more or less orderly formation. Ayla had been riding around them in a protective circle all the while. She was perfectly well aware that, at the moment, she was the only one on a horse around here, and thus could see farther and move faster than any of the soldiers sworn to protect her. She had t
o protect them now, look out for them in the literal sense. The enemy was coming, and she would be the first to see them.
“One of you,” she called. “Get onto the horse you have here for couriers to the castle and help me scout the area!”
A march to the castle was even more dangerous now than it had been before, when the barricade had still been manned. Now, their back, as well as their sides, was totally exposed. They had to move quickly if they wished to survive this night.
“You, Wecelo!” Linhart ordered. “You're a good rider, aren't you?”
“Yessir!”
“Then get your behind on that horse, man!”
“Yessir!”
Ayla watched the man jump into the saddle and was glad to see that yes, indeed, he was a good rider. Now at least there were two pairs of eyes watching.
“You scout on the left, I on the right!” she called.
“As you command, Milady.”
Pressing her heels into her horse's sides, Ayla urged the animal forward. She rode a wide circle around her troops as they began to march up the slope, but nothing happened. No arrows came flying out of the darkness, no soldiers attacked her and tried to grab her. Anxiously, she threw a look up towards the flickering lights of the castle, towering high above them on the mountaintop. Could the enemy already be there? Could they have bypassed her troops and taken her home?
No, she reassured herself. There still were guards at the gates up there, guards whom she had warned of the coming danger. They would have sounded the alarm if anything had happened.
Completing her circle, she slowed her horse down beside Captain Linhart, who radiated tension and kept throwing glances over his shoulder.
“There you are!” he hissed as she appeared out of the darkness. “Would you mind telling me what is going on here?”
Ayla was slightly taken aback. Linhart was usually such a calm man. But she had, after all, ordered him to abandon his position without any explanation whatsoever. That had to be a strain on a soldier. If she was being honest with herself, she was surprised that he had followed her orders without demanding an explanation.
