by Morgan Rice
“I’ll decide what I want to hear,” Olivia said, and there was a sense of strength to her in that moment that made it clear that she could easily command there if she had to. “I’m not sure what kind of fainting maidens you’re used to back in your land, Royce, but here, we want to hear the truth.”
“Very well,” Royce said, and if anything, he was even more impressed by her. “Altfor’s family and their knights used to ride the land, taking any women they liked back to their castle to keep for a night, or longer. They tortured those who disagreed with them, threw me into a fighting pit to die when I sought to recover the girl I…”
“So you are with this girl?” Olivia asked.
Royce shook his head, unable to keep the pain out of his voice. “She chose Altfor, and she was there to watch me die in the pit.”
“I’m so sorry,” Olivia said.
“And now his uncle is claiming to be the new duke, and he and Altfor are burning their way through their own villages.”
Olivia looked horrified at that. “Father, the things the duke is doing… it’s not as though he’s your friend.”
“He’s not,” Earl Undine agreed. “And I agree that the suffering of his people is terrible, but to become involved is to risk our people. Worse, it is to risk the wrath of the king.”
“The current king,” Olivia said. “If Royce is truly King Philip’s son, then, by birthright, isn’t he—”
“That is a dangerous thing to even suggest, daughter!” Earl Undine said, shaking his head. “Philip was my friend. After he disappeared… we are lucky to still have this place, and our armies hold it strong, but I had to swear loyalty to King Carris along with everyone else.”
That had the feel of a conversation that they’d had before. More than that, it felt as though Earl Undine was trying to persuade himself that he’d done the right thing; that he’d had no choice.
“Can you tell me more about my father?” Royce asked, not wanting to push the earl further right then.
“He was the bravest man I have known, and the best,” Earl Undine said. “When he fought… there was something magical about him when he fought. He had more speed and strength than a man should have, and the kingdom itself seemed to respond in all the old places. There was magic in his blood. He even passed the Test of the Tower.”
“The what?” Royce asked.
“The tower connected to the keep was the first thing here,” Olivia explained, “but it was cursed so that only those of the true blood could get past its guardian and enter it. Our keep was built so that generations of our family would have somewhere to live when even they couldn’t enter.”
“Those of the blood,” Royce said. “So… if I were to walk over into the tower, that would prove who I was?”
Earl Undine nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, it would.”
“And if I could prove who I was, would you be prepared to help me fight against Altfor and his uncle?”
“The king’s commands…” Earl Undine began, but then he stopped. “If you passed the test, then by right, you would be king, and I don’t care who hears me say it. Your father was the rightful king, and the kingdom has not been the same since he disappeared.”
Royce could hear the gasps around the room from some of the others there.
Earl Undine stood up. “We will continue to serve our king loyally, but this test will determine who that is. Royce will travel to the bridge and face the guardian. If he can cross, we know what that means.”
“Father,” Olivia said, “the test of the bridge is dangerous. If Royce fails…”
“If he fails, he will fall, and we can tell our ‘friends’ to the north that there is no reason to worry more about their traitor,” Earl Undine said. He looked across to Royce. “I’m sorry, boy, but that is how it must be. If you are truly Philip’s son, I will follow you, but if you are not… there has to be another end to this.”
“I understand,” Royce said. He thought about all the people waiting for him. “At least promise me that my brothers and the others will be safe?”
“You have my word,” Earl Undine said.
“And mine,” Olivia promised him. “But… I really don’t want you to fall.”
“I don’t either,” Royce said, forcing a smile.
“It’s time,” Earl Undine said, stepping away from the table.
Royce followed him as he led the way through the keep, and so did plenty of other people. Courtiers and servants, knights and men at arms, all wanting to see what would happen next as they made their way up spiraling stone staircases.
They came to a landing where two large double doors of dark oak stood against the outer wall, chained and banded with iron as solidly as any of the outer surfaces of the keep. There were locks there that Earl Undine opened with a selection of keys he took from his belt, clicking them open one by one. He swung the doors back with his own hands, revealing a bridge of gray stone that stretched towards the tower beyond.
“If you wish to prove yourself, walk to the tower,” Earl Undine said.
It looked so simple, just a short walk to an open archway on the other side, but Royce suspected that it would be anything but that. Clutching the crystal sword, he stepped out onto the bridge.
Instantly, a ghostly figure stepped out from the other side, carrying a staff of what looked like iron.
“Only those of the blood may pass and reach the tower,” the figure said, starting forward.
Royce moved to meet it, and that staff swung for his head. He ducked, and then swayed aside from a second blow. He parried with the crystal sword, cutting back with one stroke after another. The figure there looked translucent, but the impact of the blows felt all too real. Royce fought and thrust, cut and swung his sword up to guard, barely catching a counter-blow in time.
“I shall knock you from the tower, as I have many others,” the figure said. “The unworthy die.”
Royce didn’t answer, but continued his assault. He could feel the strength pumping through his limbs now. Ember flew around his combat with the ghostly thing, and it felt like with those extra eyes, he could see more of the angles of it, but even so, it was difficult. The ghost was fast, and every blow felt as though it knocked him a little closer to the edge. He felt his toes teetering, struggling to grip onto that precipice.
Royce bellowed and charged forward. He could see every blow coming now, predict every movement. He fought and fought, striking blow after blow, knowing that in a space where he couldn’t dodge, furious assault was his best answer.
The ghostly figure was moving faster now, and Royce knew that without his training on the Red Isle, he would never have been able to do this. No, even those there couldn’t have survived this. Without the additional speed and strength that coursed through him, Royce would have toppled long seconds ago. Instead, he pressed forward, step by step, until the figure took a particularly desperate swing at him.
Royce ducked and thrust at the same time, driving the crystal sword into the ghostly form. With any other sword, he was sure that he would have felt it pass through harmlessly, but the crystal sword slid home instead, driving in as cleanly as it might have through flesh. The ghostly figure hung there for a moment, transfixed by it, then dissipated like smoke, leaving the way clear.
Royce walked over to the tower, finding a largely bare room at its top, with only a rough wooden chair and a chest like some knight’s traveling trunk. It swung open at his touch, revealing a suit of silvery chain, mixed with patches of plate that were more like scales. Taking it out and holding it up, it looked to Royce as though it might fit him perfectly.
He walked back with it. The ghostly figure was there again, but instead of attacking this time, it stepped back, bowing as Royce passed. He walked over to the keep, and there, he found dozens of people standing there staring in awe. Earl Undine looked at him as if he’d seen something from the past come to life. Olivia threw her arms around him, hugging him tight so briefly that Royce barely had time to register it be
fore it was gone.
“You… you did it,” Earl Undine said, in obvious surprise. “You really are his son.”
Royce nodded. He held up the armor. “This was there waiting. Do you know why?”
Earl Undine shook his head at that. “Philip must have left it, but if he did that… he must have known that you would come here. Put it on.”
Royce pulled the chain armor on over his clothes. It was so light that it felt almost as though it wasn’t there. Even so, it shone in the sun, and felt hard enough to the touch that Royce had to believe that it would stop a blow.
“You look amazing,” Olivia said.
“You look like a warrior,” Earl Undine said. “Like a king.”
Royce hesitated then, trying to decide what all of this meant. “Does that mean that you’ll help us?”
Earl Undine didn’t hesitate this time, but simply nodded.
“We will help,” he said. “I will gather my men, and every bannerman who was your father’s and who will listen. We will join together and we will strike at Lord Alistair and his nephew.”
“You’re not worried about the king?” Royce asked.
“You are our king now,” Earl Undine said. “Besides, this battle has been long overdue. I have been holding back because Carris demanded it, but the truth is that I have been a coward, allowing evil in the world when I could have stopped it. We will come with you, and we will stand by your side, Picti and all. We will fight.”
Around him, the courtiers were staring at one another in shock. Some looked pleased, while others looked as though they couldn’t quite believe what was happening to them.
“I’m going back to my people now,” Royce said. “I want to make sure that they’re all right.”
“They are,” Earl Undine said. “I keep my word. That’s why I promise you this: together, we will win this war. We will bring peace to your lands, and rein in this duke who kills his own. We will do this, or I will die by your side, trying!”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Altfor watched men gathering on the fields before the castle, the encampment turning into a second settlement around the first. There was something strangely satisfying about watching men and horses gathering, ready to fight on his command.
On his uncle’s command, he reminded himself, and that thought was like a speck of grit in his heart. The only part that made it feel better was the thought that he had already taken the first steps to making the men loyal to him. Persuade enough of them, and perhaps his uncle would find himself surplus to requirements.
Just because he’d survived one battle, that was no guarantee that he would survive this one.
The men continued to gather, weapons shining as they scoured the rust from them, banners flowing in the wind with his house’s symbols. Their tents stood in squares, ready for them to head out at a moment’s notice, while men stood and marched and rode under the supervision of Altfor’s uncle, drilling for the moment when they would be needed.
It meant that he was not there to receive the messenger when he came, and Altfor was.
The man staggered in, looking as if he had ridden flat out over miles of hard ground. He had blood on his surcoat, and bruises rising around one side of his face. Even so, he tried to stand tall and salute when Altfor transfixed him with a stare.
“What is it?” he asked.
“My lord, is your uncle—”
“Tell me,” Altfor demanded.
The messenger seemed to consider for a moment, and Altfor decided that he would be posted to wherever the Picti were most prevalent for that. He did, however, finally decide to speak, and Altfor decided that he would at least not be sent out without weapons.
“The rebels, my lord,” the man said. “We found the spot where they are camping. My detachment came upon them up on the heathland. They had guards… Picti guards. I was the only one to break clear.”
“You’re sure it was them?” Altfor demanded. “It wasn’t an encampment of the savages?”
“We saw ordinary peasants there, and warriors who definitely weren’t Picti,” the man said.
“Well done,” Altfor said. “Go and recover. I need to find my uncle.”
He went down to the open ground before the castle, walking to the spot where Lord Alistair was giving commands.
“Uncle,” he called. “Men have brought news. We have found the rebels.”
“Then go give orders to the men,” his uncle said. “We ride at once, ready to crush them!”
Altfor nodded, and rushed to command the men. He looked up at the keep, seeking out the spot where his wife looked out from one of the windows. He would make sure that she was with them as they rode, too. She would watch what was to come, and she would suffer the pain of seeing Royce fall.
***
Royce rode at the head of the column of their soldiers with Earl Undine. Behind them, soldiers marched in perfect step, looking almost eager for the battle to come. Even his brothers looked ready for it, weapons and armor shining as they rode.
They had crossed into Altfor’s lands by now, he was sure, and it would be only a short way to the meeting place where the others were encamped.
“Are you looking forward to crushing your enemies?” Earl Undine asked, riding beside him. The older man looked more natural now that he had armor on, as if he had been missing a second skin of metal all the time that he was without it.
Royce shook his head. “There should be a better way.”
“Men have been saying that since the dawn of time,” Earl Undine said. “But they have yet to find it. Sometimes a foe needs to be beaten, a battle won. And you seemed eager enough when you were persuading me.”
“Altfor needs to be stopped,” Royce said.
“And this girl of yours saved?” Earl Undine suggested.
“I… don’t know,” Royce admitted. He had started this for Genevieve, but now he wasn’t even sure that she wanted to be saved.
“You know that my daughter likes you,” Earl Undine said.
“I know,” Royce agreed. “And she… she seems like a wonderful daughter, my lord.”
“I’m not your lord,” he said. “You are my king. Even so, if you do anything to hurt Olivia, I’ll cut your head from your shoulders.”
“Something tells me that she would do it herself,” Royce said.
They kept riding out along the road, and then up onto the expanse of the heather. It was like a sea of heather and bracken, interspersed with gouges in the peat and hidden hollows. Their army moved up toward the rockier ground of the meeting place, knowing that once they met up together, they would finally have the numbers they needed.
The day passed in a cascade of footfalls, the lockstep of their force carrying it over the wild ground of the heather. Approaching like this, Royce suspected that they might even be in with a chance of approaching Altfor’s castle without being spotted. If they managed that, then maybe the advantage they held would be enough to force him to surrender, or at least to force most of his men to run.
Royce was still hoping for that when he saw the meeting place in the distance, and there, beyond it, a second army. Royce barely had to look at the banners there to know whose army it had to be.
“Altfor and his uncle!” he called out to the others.
“They must be here to attack the camp,” Matilde shouted back. “We need to attack them now!”
Royce shook his head. They couldn’t do that, not after marching for so long. Their people were tired, and there was no way they could fight well when they were like that. They needed rest. The only question was whether Altfor and his uncle would give them a chance for that.
One promising sign was the failing light. Tints of red were creeping into the sky, as if predicting the blood that would soon flow beneath it. The sun was growing lower in the sky, and maybe that would help them, because Royce suspected that Altfor wouldn’t want to risk a night attack against a force used to the wilds.
“We need to get to the meeting place,” he
said. “After that, we need to camp, and we need to prepare ourselves. In the morning… in the morning, then we’ll fight.”
They hurried forward, and Royce saw some of Altfor’s forces spreading out, forming a broad wave that looked as though it might be able to engulf the meeting place. For a moment, he thought they might charge straight forward in spite of the failing light, and then Royce suspected that his people would have no chance.
Instead, they moved out to form a kind of cordon designed to hem in Royce’s people. Outriders moved out behind them, clearly trying to stop the people there at the meeting place from running.
They were making sure that the battle would happen here, and Royce was okay with that. Come the morning, he and the others would show Altfor exactly what they could do.
***
They marched into the camp in the meeting place, and Royce watched the others start to set up their sleeping places among the tents. He saw Matilde and Neave slip off together somewhere among the Picti, while his brothers found spots with the villagers, and Earl Undine’s men set up a vast sweep of tents and pavilions. Royce thought about joining them, but then a figure came out from near one of the fires, leaning on a spear.
“Mark!” Royce called, rushing forward to embrace his friend.
“Royce!” Mark said. “I never thought that you would manage all of this.”
Mark gestured to the camp, where villagers, Picti, and Earl Undine’s soldiers all spread out together, preparing for what would come in the morning.
“I’m glad to see that you’re up and walking,” Royce said.
“The healers still say I should rest more, but I’ll be fighting in the morning,” Mark said.
Royce shook his head. “Don’t be a fool.”
“What am I supposed to do? Sit here and hope that no one kills me if the enemy break through?” Mark demanded. “At least this way, my fate is in my own hands, and… well, how many other Red Isle–trained fighters does your side have?”
It was a fair point, and one Royce couldn’t really argue with. Come the morning, they would need all the help that they could get, and if Mark said he was well enough to fight, then he was worth at least half a dozen of the soldiers Altfor would send, maybe more.