A Skin of a Dragon (The Guild of Gatekeepers Book 1)

by Frances Jones

  'She's escapin'!' he yelled, dodging the fists and knives being brandished all around him.

  Eliza froze, for a moment too shocked to act as Abel came crashing through the fray towards her, a knife ready in his hand. He was just a few yards from her, his free hand ready to grab her and drag her back within the confines of the wall. Panicked, I grabbed a stone from the pile of debris below the wall and launched it at Abel's head. He let out a pained yell as it hit him squarely on the forehead.

  Roused by Abel's cries, Eliza recovered her wits and darted behind the wall. Abel cursed and rubbed the bloodied gash on his forehead.

  'The devil be about!' he cried. 'That there rock came from nowhere and hit me square on the head! Old Scratch is walking this land to be sure!'

  His feuding family paused, momentarily stunned by his shouts, and for a moment too shocked to wonder what had become of Eliza. With trembling hands, I cut the ropes that bound her with my pocket knife.

  'How did you find me?' she whispered.

  'No time to explain. Run to that thicket of trees and wait for me,' I whispered back.

  Before Eliza had chance to stop me, I crept towards the horses that had wandered further down the hill to escape the commotion.

  Chapter 38

  Seeing an opportunity to distract the Penberthys long enough to make our escape, I mounted the nearest horse and grabbed a handful of stones. Crouching in the saddle, I sheltered beside part of the wall furthest from the thicket and launched another stone through a gap where the brickwork had fallen away, this time hitting Bess on the back of the head. She let out a cry, and at once the clan grabbed their rifles and bounded towards the invisible assailant, but Abel's voice stopped them in their tracks.

  'Now see what ye've done with yer bickering! Ye've lost me my maid!' he cried, noticing for the first time that Eliza was gone.

  Before his relatives had chance to say any more, I moved round the wall and launched the remaining stones, one after the other, striking each of them in the chest and head. The quarrelling erupted more furiously than before as I galloped back towards the thicket where Eliza waited.

  'Jump on,' I hissed as a volley of bullets fell to the ground just yards away.

  There was a shuffling sound from the darkness, and a second later Eliza was in the saddle behind me. I spurred the horse forward, and then we were off as the cursing and screaming grew gradually fainter.

  'What was all the commotion for? I couldn't see, and I dared not move from the trees,' said Eliza when we were a safe distance from the hideout.

  'A parting shot from me,' I replied, 'but I am afraid those brutes may still pursue us. They have horses and know this land better than we do. We ought to put a good distance between us before we stop to rest.'

  The orange glow of the fire could still be seen on the hilltop, silhouetting the figures moving about before it. I set the horse to a gallop, and soon the ruined castle was little more than a speck in the distance that swiftly melted into the shadows of the night.

  'I was so afraid they were Devere's men,' said Eliza.

  'And I,' I replied. 'We were lucky this time, and we have got ourselves a horse for our trouble, but next time we may not be so fortunate.'

  The land flashed by as we rode mile after mile, following the road while maintaining a safe distance from it. Now and then, the moon could be glimpsed between clouds driven by the wind blowing in from the north. Our going was slower as the land became rougher and more difficult to cross, but by dawn we had covered several more miles, and the town of Truro lay twinkling in the river valley below.

  The loss of both our packs of food was a blow, and the few berries we could forage from the roadside were little remedy. As we ate, I filled Eliza in on all that had befallen since she was snatched by the Penberthys and how I had come to find her. She frowned as I finished telling her of my encounter with the witch’s corpse in the cellar.

  ‘It seems the dragonskin is attracting magic, good or otherwise,’ she said. ‘We should be vigilant and not linger in one place too long. Who knows what has become of the Shadow Horse, but I don’t believe we have seen the last of it. And I don’t doubt there are plenty of other things lurking around that Devere can exploit for his own purposes.’

  ‘That may be,’ I yawned, ‘but I cannot go any further until I have rested.’ With that, I settled into an angle of the tree we sat beneath and shut my eyes.

  Morning was giving way to afternoon, and the late-autumn sun winked through the branches above when I awoke. I was stiff from riding and still tired, having slept lightly for fear of pursuit. A rustling in the tree had woken me, and I glanced about, fearing another encounter with the Penberthys or worse, but there, resting on a low branch, was Bill. In his beak he held another note.

  'Eliza,' I said, shaking her gently and showing her the note.

  'Does George say anything about my father?' asked Eliza, jumping to her feet.

  'Let’s see,' I replied.

  6th November 1648

  Dear Eliza and Tom,

  Bill informed me of your unfortunate adventure in the storm and your decision to continue your journey on foot. I'm afraid to say that I suspect you were not simply the victims of poor weather but of something more sinister.

  My spies tell me that Devere is terrified that the dragonskin is slipping from his grasp, and with mounting pressure from Cromwell he is exerting all his resources into finding it. Of course, he does not yet know for certain that you have it, and the longer that remains so, the better for us, but mind! the Venatorian is on your trail. He already knows that you abandoned the ship and is racing to Cornwall like a gale as I write. His hawks may already be watching the roads, so beware.

  Thus far, I fear I have been of little assistance to you, though I have been busy gathering what information I can from my new avian friends. Bill brought his sister, Frigg, to me last week, and it must be said that she makes a marvellous spy. She has kept me fully updated of events around the Gatehouse, and she has also carried several messages back and forth for me, which has enabled me to call upon the help of my friend, Prince Rupert of the Rhine. He is the King's nephew, a talented magician, and a valiant supporter of the Crown, but having been banished from England by Parliament two years ago, he has only lately returned in secret. I have arranged for him to meet you in Truro. If you have already passed the town, then I urge you to turn back, as I fear you will not get far beyond Cornwall without his help. If you have not yet reached Truro, then I advise you to hasten there as soon as possible and avoid taking the roads, which will undoubtedly be watched. It is not safe to arrange a meeting place and communicate this to you in writing but suffice to say that Rupert will find you.

  Others of my acquaintances are aware of your plight, and it may be that you find yourselves in need of their aid. Therefore, I urge you to be wary of strangers, but keep in mind that help may arrive un-looked for and when it is least expected.

  Touching on your father, Eliza, I am pleased to inform you that he is well and in good spirits, and he asks you not to fret about him.

  I will write again with news as I receive it. Keep safe and remember to avoid the roads.

  George.

  The look of relief on Eliza’s face was visible as she read the note. ‘Thank goodness!’ she exclaimed. ‘I was terrified for Father.’

  ‘Aye, and ‘tis a relief we are close to Truro, but George’s news about the Venatorian worries me.’ I replied. ‘We have been too careless. The Penberthys are the least of our worries, it seems. We have ridden in the open and in daylight, but we could have been much more careful. I am afraid to think of who or what may have been watching us. Come, we should get to Truro while the light lasts.'

  We gathered together our belongings and set off at once. I glanced anxiously up at the sky and to either side, expecting at any moment to see the Venatorian's hawks circling overhead. Only the horse, a handsome, chestnut-coloured beast I had named Ralph, seemed in good spirits. He was evidently relieved to
be free of the Penberthys and jogged along happily with his new companions as the land became gradually tamer and well-ordered.

  'I hope this Rupert has food and water to spare,' I said. 'We have used up everything we had, and there is no time to hunt or forage for more.'

  'I would be content simply to sleep in a real bed for the night,' replied Eliza glumly. 'I have quite forgotten what it actually feels like.'

  'Well, I am afraid we still have a long road ahead of us to the Isle of Wight,' I replied, 'and it shall only get harder I fear, even with the help of George's friends.'

  Chapter 39

  Afternoon was spent, and dusk was gathering as we made our way through the narrow streets of Truro. I led Ralph by his reins, and we kept our heads down, fearful of drawing attention to ourselves, but our tattered and weather-stained cloaks already had us marked as travellers and strangers to the town.

  As we walked, I noticed a man a little further ahead turn and look back at us before disappearing beneath an archway between two houses.

  'Tom! Eliza!' came a whispered voice from the shadows as we passed it a moment later.

  I stopped and peered into the darkness that was closing around us. There were no lanterns or candles in the windows to light our way.

  'Who's there?' I said.

  'Prince Rupert,' replied the voice. 'Follow me.'

  A hand appeared from the darkness, beckoning us to follow, and a second later a lantern was uncovered, illuminating a small courtyard where two horses were stabled beneath a lean-to. Immediately, Rupert took the reins and led Ralph to a manger of fresh hay beside the other horses. Eliza and I followed him through a doorway to the side of the courtyard and up a steep flight of stairs to a single door which opened onto a dimly-lit room.

  It was plainly furnished with a few chairs arranged around a table and a rickety-looking bed in the corner. The hearth was empty, and a draught whistled through cracks in the walls which almost extinguished the candles above the mantelpiece.

  'Do you have it?' Rupert asked, shutting and locking the door behind us. His eyes glowed in the lamp-light with an avaricious look, and there was something in the gruffness of his speech and the wildness of his appearance that made me uneasy. He did not look like a prince at all, even one who had been on the run.

  ‘Have what?’ I asked.

  ‘The precious burden, the prize that the old wizard has promised Cromwell,’ Rupert replied.

  'Yes, we have it,' I replied slowly.

  Rupert took a firm step towards me. 'Show me,' he said.

  'I think it is best left hidden for now,' I replied, taking a step back towards the hearth.

  'I would like to see it,' insisted Rupert.

  'Why?' I asked. My voice was firm, but inside I was alarmed and wondering desperately how we might extricate ourselves from the situation. My eyes flicked to the window, but it was too small to climb through, and with a three storey drop, it was a hopeless plan.

  'I have told you to show me,' replied Rupert angrily, no longer attempting to conceal his frustration. His hand moved to a knife tucked into his belt. I grabbed one of the iron candlesticks from the mantelpiece and hurled it at him, striking him in the forehead before he had chance to draw his weapon. He cursed and held his hands to his bleeding head. At the same moment, there was a mighty crash, and the door burst open. An immensely tall man with a musket slung across his shoulder stepped into the room. In one hand, he held a handkerchief. Grabbing Rupert from behind, his arm around his throat, the man pressed the handkerchief to Rupert's face, covering his mouth and nose.

  Rupert's arms flailed about wildly, and his eyes were wide with panic, but the man held him firm. For a few seconds, he struggled vainly, then his body went limp as the man lowered him to the floor.

  'Quickly,' said the man, standing aside to allow me and Eliza to pass. 'I don't know how many more of his sort may be prowling about.'

  'Is he dead?' cried Eliza.

  'No, just unconscious,' replied the man, 'Did you arrive on foot or by horse?'

  'Horse,' I replied. 'He is in the courtyard outside.'

  The man led us back down the stairs and into the courtyard where Ralph was munching great mouthfuls of hay and acquainting himself with his new companions. Another horse waited nearby, white and grey and far larger and more powerfully built than Ralph. It shook its mane proudly, aloof to the other horses, as the man leapt into the saddle and turned it towards the road.

  'Follow me,' he said.

  'Wait,' called Eliza. 'Who are you, and what makes you think we will simply follow you without question? You saved us from a perilous situation back there, and we are grateful, but that does not make us friends!

  To Eliza's surprise, the man climbed down from his horse and bowed to her reverentially.

  'You must be Eliza,' he said. 'George warned me you can be quite a character.'

  A roguish smile curled on his lips. He was handsome, with glossy dark locks that curled about his shoulders and a ready smile. Eliza blushed but forced her voice to remain firm.

  'Who are you, and how do you know George?' she said.

  'It would be far safer if we were to get the introductions out of the way when we have put a bit of distance between ourselves and Truro, but your consternation is perhaps understandable, so I will indulge you. I am Rupert, Prince Rupert of the Rhine, a friend of George Prye. He wrote to me three days ago requesting my help and asked that I assist two of his friends who were travelling without guidance and with an important burden that must be delivered to the King.'

  'How do we know you are Prince Rupert of the Rhine, being as you are the second man purporting to be him that we have met tonight?' I broke in.

  'Ahh, was that fellow claiming to be me?' asked the man. 'It seems someone has intercepted George's communications, but you ought to have known he could not have been me. My handsome looks are legendary, are they not?' he added with a grin. 'Well, perhaps this will convince you both that I am who I say.'

  He took a folded note from the breast pocket of his doublet and handed it to Eliza. She opened it at once and examined its contents before showing it to me. It was written in George's hand, and it bore his signature at the end.

  5th November 1638

  Dear Rupert,

  News has reached me that you are back in England. As I am sure you are aware, your uncle the King is a prisoner of Colonel Robert Hammond in Carisbrooke Castle. His fate, and indeed that of the monarchy itself, is on a knife edge.

  Two of my young friends, Eliza and Tom, both apprentices of the Guild of Gatekeepers, are travelling alone and unaided with an extremely important burden that could well alter events dramatically. There is not time, nor would it be prudent, to describe the nature of their prize any further, but it is imperative that it reaches the King. Their ship was wrecked off the coast of Cornwall, and they are travelling without guidance and with foes closing in all around.

  It transpires the Guild's Keeper, William Devere, is in league with Cromwell. I am his prisoner and therefore unable to offer Tom and Eliza much assistance. If you are able to, I beseech you to travel to Truro as swiftly as possible and meet them there. It would be unwise to arrange a meeting place in case our messages are intercepted, so you will have to look out for them. Tom is a tall, strapping lad, fair hair, brown eyes and a pleasant disposition. Eliza is Richard Ellery's daughter and apprentice. She is very like him in appearance, but a small, slight girl. She is quite a character and may take some convincing of your motivations, so mind that!

  If you are able to assist, please send word immediately.

  Your friend, George

  'How did George get this note to you?' I asked as I finished reading the note. My suspicions had been raised once again at the suggestion of George's communications being intercepted.

  'A thrush delivered it,' replied Rupert. 'I wasn't aware George went in for familiars, but needs must, I suppose. Now, if you are both quite finished scrutinising me, we really must leave.'

 
Eliza looked at me, still uncertain.

  'What do you think?' she asked.

  'I believe he is who he says he is,' I replied at length, 'and if George trusts him then we ought to too.'

  'Excellent,' said Rupert, 'Now that is settled, if you will kindly saddle up we shall be on our way.'

  Chapter 40

  We passed quietly through the streets of Truro: Rupert on his magnificent war horse, Pluto, and Eliza and I riding together upon Ralph. A biting wind had swept in from the sea, and the townspeople had closed their doors and shuttered their windows against the night. There wasn't a soul about as we slipped out of the town and climbed over a steep bank at the roadside before melting away into the shadows of the surrounding countryside.

  'I am afraid we still have many miles to cover before we can rest,' said Rupert. 'I have no doubt whoever that fellow was back there was not working alone and will pursue us.'

  'Who do you think he was?' I asked.

  'I cannot say for certain,' replied Rupert, 'as I know no more about this most intriguing situation than what George put in his letter. I was hoping you might enlighten me.'

  I took up the tale while Eliza dosed off in the saddle behind me, jolting awake every now and then when she bumped her head upon my shoulder. Rupert listened intently and said nothing while I spoke.

  ''Tis quite a mess you have got yourselves tangled up in,' he remarked when I had finished. 'I have known George for many years, and though I don't claim to know the inner workings of the Guild, he has revealed to me perhaps more than he should have about its doings. He has spoken many times of his fears concerning Devere. The Guild of Gatekeepers is just one of a number of magical secret societies in Europe, each jealous of the others' status and fearful of the influence they hold. That, perhaps, goes some way towards explaining this audacious power-grab Devere has planned once he has the dragonskin in his possession. Knowing what little I do of him, I fear he will stop at nothing to consolidate the power of the Guild- and his own position within it. Yet, while he continues to throw sand in Cromwell's eyes with regard to his true intentions, he is likely to have command of Parliamentarian forces, in addition to the Shadow Horse tracking the dragonskin. That greatly increases our danger. I would wager that our friend in Truro was a Roundhead thug, and there will be more of his sort about.'