“Jak,” Norze said. “What are you doing?”
Quenid brought his sword back in a wide arc. With clenched teeth, he roared as he swung toward Jak’s throat. Jak tossed his sword backwards, hoping he had put enough strength into it for the hilt to land near Norze’s reach.
It did.
“No!” Norze shouted.
The Vyking blade made a clean cut through Jak’s neck with such speed that Jak’s body stood momentarily while his lobbed head spun and dropped on the ground.
After his body collapsed, Norze reached down and grabbed Jak’s sword and rushed toward Quenid. Knowing that the sword could never penetrate the Vyking’s chest piece, he aimed for the narrow eye opening in Quenid’s helmet but his attempt was blocked away.
Quenid tossed his heavy round shield to the ground. “I don’t understand why Waxxon fears Dragon Knights. You’re the weakest opponents I’ve ever faced.”
Norze glanced around at the other Vykings and then he looked at the simple farmers. Still, after seeing Jak beheaded, none of them expressed any desire to rush to his aid, and even though they were peace-seekers, he wondered what the Vykings would do to them after he was dead. The Vykings didn’t care if they fought back or not. They’d kill whomever they wished without any second thoughts.
Norze came at Quenid again. Quenid parried the attempted blow and as Norze’s blade was knocked away, Quenid threw a solid punch with his left hand and struck Norze in the head. The Vyking’s studded fist weapon crushed the side of Norze’s head.
His death was instant.
General Quenid stood over the two dead Dragon Knights and shook his head with grave disappointment.
Chapter Fifty-three
After Boldair had drunk eight tall tankards of ale, he had retreated to one of the bedrooms at the top of the stairs in the tavern. It was the middle of the night when Taniesse knocked upon his door.
“What is it?” he asked in a near slur.
“We’ve lost two more Dragon Knights.”
“Blast the gods! Their numbers are getting fewer and fewer.”
“I know. I think it’s best that we head out of this little place a few hours before sunrise. We need to get to the graveyard quickly.”
“Aye! Let me snooze a bit first.”
“I’ll wake you in a couple of hours.”
“Aye . . . zzz.”
Taniesse grinned and shook her head as Boldair’s harsh snores reverberated. Within a matter of days, they had lost four Dragon Knights. She wondered how her sisters were faring in looking for more of the Order and gathering armies. They were aware of the deaths of the Dragon Knights, as she was; but since each had dispatched to different terrains of Aetheaon, it was essential that each sister continued to carry out the task they had chosen.
However, the best thing they could do that benefited the Dragon Knights the most was to shed their human appearances and show Aetheaon the power of the three sisters. Doing so allowed them to share their power with the knights and boosted their morale, but until they found Lady Dawn, they couldn’t risk allowing the world to know they still existed.
***
Dawn sat in Pig-Sty Tavern, watching Caen sit hunched over at the bar. His muscled hands were wrapped around a tall tankard, but he hadn’t bothered looking up at anyone else, not even Sarey when she had brought him another drink.
In the far dim corner of the tavern, Eegrubb and Kaleb sat drinking as well. Above their heads, mounted on the wall, was a stuffed head of a griffon. Other heads of bizarre creatures lined the tavern walls. Their glazed glassy eyes were morbid and seemed to watch the patrons like potential prey.
Nearly every table was filled with farming peasants who were eating, drinking heavily, or feasting upon the bards’ tales while having a light supper of hot soup, hard bread, and cheese. Noise rustled like little waves of excited energy, in spite of their tired eyes and sore muscles.
Sarey brought a small wooden tray and a silver tankard to Dawn.
“Here,” Sarey said, setting the plate of roasted boar and potatoes before her. She then set the tankard down with a clunk.
“Thanks.”
Sarey took a seat across from her.
Dawn cut into one of the hot potatoes with her fork. She eyed Sarey. “How many tankards has he drunk?”
“Too many.”
“How is he? Other than drunk?”
“He seems very sullen.”
Dawn hungrily chewed the potato for a few moments, swallowed, and reached for the tankard of honey ale. She took a sip and gave Sarey a sad look. “I’d like to go talk to him . . .”
Sarey shook her head. “Now would not be an ideal time.”
“I realize that. I just don’t know what else I can do.”
“Can’t help you with that either. I truly don’t think there’s much you or I can do, until he breaks free of this self-loathing spell.”
“You really think that’s what this is?”
Sarey shrugged. “It seems to be.”
“And not about us?”
Sarey grinned slightly. “I think that’s what he wanted you to believe.”
“He was pretty convincing.”
“You’ve not been around many men, have you?”
Dawn shook her head. With the dull knife and fork, she cut a portion of the juicy boar meat. “No. After my father’s death, mainly women and an occasional guard came around me, but none of our guards ever spoke to me. Being a princess is quite sheltered. I never met many people.”
“You’ve a lot to learn about them, then. As a bar maiden, I’ve met countless men from our hamlet as well as those who venture through here. Over time you begin to read reactions and have a better understanding about people’s personalities.”
“And what do you read when you look at Caen?” Dawn asked, setting down her utensils.
“Upon our first meeting, he showed a great deal of kindness and that also reflects in his eyes.”
Dawn nodded. “That’s how I read him, too.”
Sarey smiled. “Yes, but you have a lot of emotion tied to your first meeting with him.”
“How’s that?”
“He saved you from the abusive stable master. Regardless of Caen’s true nature, your first inclination would always be to see him as a hero.”
Dawn thought about her statement for a few moments. She nodded. “I suppose that’s true, which might also explain how hurt I am at his sudden change and why he . . . lashed out at me directly. What else do you see in him?”
Sarey sighed. “There’s buried anger inside him, which is probably why he’s still seated at the bar drinking. I believe his anger is toward himself, for whatever reason, but it’s building. If he doesn’t deal with it, it will eat him alive or make him do some very foolish things that might jeopardize his life.”
“I wonder why he’d be so angry at himself.” Her eyes widened, and for a moment her countenance held that of royalty, not a lowly squire in training. “Wait . . . is it that obvious?”
“What?”
Dawn lowered to a whisper. “Don’t you see? His whole demeanor changed the moment that Kaleb and Eegrubb had the discussion about the war where my father died. You think that’s it? That he had failed and didn’t do enough to protect him?”
Sarey shrugged. “That’s what any good knight would believe.”
Tears brimmed in Dawn’s eyes. “Why couldn’t I see that to start with? I took his attack personal.”
“But you’re right. Those brothers making their accusations are what possibly set him off. And then, Kaleb openly challenged him in the pit. Due to Kaleb’s physical ailments, Caen couldn’t rightly punish the man for his blunt and distasteful accusations the night before.”
Dawn glanced across the tavern at the brothers. The brothers leaned across the table toward one another with their eyes focused on Caen. They grinned and mumbled. She nodded toward them and kept her voice low. “I still don’t trust them. Something about them seems devious.”
“I get that feeling, too.” Sarey stood.
“Where are you going?”
“I have to help clean up. We’ll be sending people away soon. My father’s got a worse mood than Caen had earlier today, so I’d rather get busy cleaning than get yelled at later.”
“You need me to help?”
Sarey shook her head. “No. Caen is already suspicious of our . . . friendship. Believe me, if he wasn’t drunk and oblivious to everything around him tonight, I wouldn’t have taken the time to sit down with you. But, as it is, he isn’t aware that either of us is here. Much less that we’re seated together.”
“Should I help Caen get to his room tonight?”
Sarey glanced over her shoulder at Caen and shrugged. “Give it a half hour. If he’s too drunk to walk, we’ll both help him up the stairs, okay?”
Dawn nodded.
After Sarey returned to the bar, Dawn continued eating. Since others believed her to be a squire, she wasn’t expected to eat with proper manners, so she stuffed her mouth with larger portions, making her cheeks bulge. Chewing came with smacking noises that she found both disturbing and humorous. For some unexplained reason, she was much hungrier than she had ever been. While she ate, she kept her attention fixated on the two brothers more than Caen. Caen’s shoulders remained slumped. He held his tankard between his hands and stared down at it. He looked transfixed, and like Sarey had said, he was oblivious to anyone else in the tavern.
However, the two brothers snickered in between whispers. Kaleb held his dagger and in a playacting manner, he hammered the dagger over and over in a stabbing motion with it. All the while, they looked at Caen, exchanging sly grins and dark resentful stares.
Uneasiness rose inside of Dawn. She didn’t like how the two were interacting. They were definitely up to something but she wasn’t certain what. She gulped the honey ale to wash down her last bite of food, and pushed her plate away. Until Caen left where he was seated, she determined that she would remain where she was, watching the two brothers in case they were planning to attack Caen.
***
After Caen had passed out on the bar where he was seated, Dawn, Joss, and Sarey helped drag him to the room upstairs over the bar. Once they placed him onto the lumpy cot, Dawn didn’t bother undressing him, but she did loosen his armor so his mobility and breathing weren’t hampered while he slept off his drunken stupor.
Sarey and Joss left the room, and Sarey pulled the door closed.
Dawn finally lay down on the other cot and stared into the darkness. The pain between her shoulder blades was minor, and whatever healing salve Sarey had been using must have been working. She was glad, but she still worried that Caen would no longer train her.
Dawn wondered about Caen’s behavior once the sun rose the next morning. Sure, he’d suffer a horrible headache, but what would his attitude toward her be? Would he still want to find a new squire? Or would he reconsider his actions? She didn’t expect an apology, even if he decided to take her back. All she wanted was to be near him and temporarily act as his squire.
Dawn shook her head and almost laughed at how ridiculous it sounded for a queen to desire to become a knight’s servant. Jesters weren’t able to even suggest what she was thinking for fear of being decapitated on the guillotine.
She found herself willing to be a squire, not in servitude to Caen, but in order to walk unnoticed. She wondered when she’d actually be able to announce who she was. What was the best time? She needed to be in a large city where she could be protected by another king or queen that had armies. She wasn’t certain of Caen’s eventual destination, but she hoped if he kept her as his squire that she could persuade him to venture to Oculoth or Legelarid. Of course, the Elven City of Woodnog was one of Hoffnung’s closest allies because her mother had relatives there, so the city hidden in the swamps might prove to be the quickest destination.
Sweat crested on her brow and upper lip. Her hair was soaked. The room was too hot and stuffy for her to fall to sleep. She doubted she could sleep even if it were cooler, due to the numerous thoughts shuffling through her mind.
Why did men have to be so difficult?
Why did Caen?
Dawn wanted to tell him who she was, especially now that he had expressed leaving her behind. The revelation would immediately snap his attention, but she still believed she needed to wait, regardless of what decision Caen chose.
She covered her face with her palms and groaned from her inner frustration. A part of her wanted to scream. Another part wanted to sob and hug her pillow until the sun broke the morning sky.
Caen snored softly, and she guessed it would get worse as the night wore on. She turned to her side, facing Caen’s side of the room. For a moment she really thought about going over to his bed, climbing in beside him, and wrapping her arms around him while he slept. He was most likely in a deep sleep, so he wouldn’t even know she was there. But in his dreams, she hoped, he’d feel her embrace and somehow it would soothe the inner turmoil that was inside him. Of course, should he awaken and discover her, thinking she was a boy . . .
The new emotions weren’t something she fully understood, and the more she stared in the darkness toward Caen’s bed, the more she longed to be held by him, to kiss him, and to love him. In silence she listened to him breathe and snore, just thankful the goddesses had let their paths cross in the stables. Perhaps in some ways they were watching over her like she was watching and caring for him.
Since Caen wasn’t in any condition to defend himself, Dawn realized she didn’t need to fall asleep, even if she could. She was extremely uncomfortable with how the two brothers had acted in the dining area of the tavern. She half expected them to attempt an attack soon. Hopefully not tonight, but she wasn’t going to chance the possibility. Falling asleep left both of them vulnerable.
Chapter Fifty-four
After the last of the bustling, half drunken patrons inside Pig-Sty Tavern staggered out into the night, Joss secured the heavy wooden door. He turned to Sarey and said, “The farmers seemed thirstier than normal this evening.”
She nodded, took an old towel from her apron, and wiped down the nearest table. “Most are eager and hopeful that King Erik isn’t dead.”
Joss sighed. “I’d gladly accept the news, if it be true. It’s hard to let a hero be dead in our minds. That’s what creates myths and legends. But I have to agree with what Caen said though.”
“That we have failed our king if he’s still alive?”
“Yes.”
“So you place no hope in the thought that he might not be dead?”
Joss scratched softly at his furrowed brow. “I cannot.”
“Why not?”
“Because it has been too many years since he rode into battle. Caen’s right. Besides, if he were alive and held captive, a ransom would have been demanded long ago. No one holds a king prisoner without expecting something rich in return. Don’t you agree?”
Sarey paused from wiping the table and offered a slight shrug. “I suppose that would be the normal procedure.”
“For a king? The demand for gold and other treasures would have been issued soon after the battle ended. There has been no contact from anyone.”
“But there’s not any trace of his corpse, either.”
“Snowloch, my dear, is a treacherous and barren land with continual heavy snows. The snowy fields are vast, and seldom does the climate heat enough to even melt away an inch of snow or ice. If his body is there, it is frozen and preserved, but you won’t discover it from the surface.”
“So you think the two brothers’ tale the other night is the truth?”
Joss shook his head. His eyes narrowed. “They did nothing more than open long closed wounds in Hoffnung, and right after our queen was murdered.”
“You don’t trust them?”
“I do not. Not fully.”
“Then why rent them a room in our tavern tonight?” she asked, returning two empty tankards to the bar.
Joss
gave a sly grin. “They paid the gold that I requested, which is twice what I normally charge.”
Sarey smiled. “Ah, I wondered why the sudden increase.”
“I hoped the price would send them running.”
“How’s that?”
Joss grabbed a worn broom and began sweeping. “Mere thieves might not have the money, but these men did have gold. They couldn’t have stolen it from any of the farmers in our hamlet. Not that amount. And they paid for their drinks, too, without asking for a tab. Of course, I’d have denied that request immediately anyway. Only a fool gives credit to a stranger.”
“They insist that they are knights.”
“Yes.”
“Caen sparred against Kaleb and quite embarrassed him. Kaleb showed no real skills as a fighter, so they couldn’t have earned their money from jousting or pit fighting. And since they were ostracized from Legelarid, they didn’t earn gold from their land.”
Joss chuckled. “Those two? You’re right. Neither has seen battle in ages. Whatever ties they held to their king’s property has long faded. They aren’t active knights. They are knights of opportunity, if anything.”
“Then how do you account for their gold?”
“I didn’t say that they weren’t thieves. I believe they are thieves and quite skillful with what they take.”
Sarey cringed. “So we’re housing thieves?”
“Quite possibly. It will be a long night for me.”
“For the both of us,” she replied with a narrowed gaze. “Donne doesn’t trust them, and the brothers seemed to have been watching Caen while he sat at the bar drinking tonight.”
“Don’t think that I didn’t notice their behavior. I’ve done this for many more years than you’ve been alive. You learn to keep your eyes and ears open at all times, even when others believe you’re not watching. Very little ever passes without me noticing.”
“Good. At least Donne’s fears aren’t unwarranted.”
“My dear daughter . . . why else would I say that it would be a long night?”
Lady Squire- Dawn's Ascension Page 40