Her tearing eyes were locked. “Trees,” she uttered, still staring—the colossal oak yards away, the bark covering it becoming increasingly detailed and closing—fast.
He found her hands through the rolling gallops and covered them with one of his own. He pulled both their reins, on both of their mounts, slowing them.
“Whoa…” His voice was calm despite the pounding he felt at the base of his throat. He had to do the same with his own reins to keep the horses together. Close. “Whoa, there.” The horses slowed to an even trot, grumbling and tossing their manes and whickering in some sort of agitation. The tree was now a mere few paces away. Felena panted. Her wild eyes finally left their place on the oak ahead and darted to find Freck’s.
He felt he should have railed at her for not taking control of her mount and panicking. Of all the foolhardy-!, Instead of blustering his inner thoughts he heard himself say, “You alright, Felen?” He knew he looked just as frightened as she did. She nodded as a response and after a long breath of relief, a small smile curved on her lips. His hand needlessly still covered hers, gripping the reins. He nodded back. “You had me worried.” A huff of relief escaped him.
“Thank you, Freck,” she managed. “That was—you were…impressive.”
His heart fluttered at that. “Impressive.”
✽✽✽
Lanico and Treva pursued the sound of clanging metal, speeding into the thick woods, winding around trees. Their hands instinctively grabbed their sword hilts. They rounded a bend filled of towering pine to the small clearing that cradled Greta’s house and the Odana River coursing through. The light from the sky illuminated their treasure and the soft ethereal glow of the cabin.
Their eyes flashed in the fading light of day to find the cause of the sound. Marin, Anah, and Gish practicing—just as ordered by them, previously.
“I’m so glad—” Treva held a hand to her gaping mouth. Her heart continued to pound. She lifted a silent prayer of thanks that a battle hadn’t erupted here in their stead. She wagered their nerves may still be on edge from the battle at the Great Mist. She and Lanico were still so easily shifted into becoming combat ready.
He blew a sigh. More relief. He made a crooked grin at Treva. He’s safe.
“Mother! Lanico!” Hearing the grasses hiss at their approach, the glow of Marin’s purple eyes darted in their direction.
“Yes!” Lanico gave a rumble of laughter at that. He and Treva glanced quickly to each other and bounded off to eliminate the space between them and Marin, their prize. He dismounted quickly. “Yes, my boy, we’re back.” He turned to assist Treva in dismounting, but she didn’t wait for Lanico’s kind gesture having already leaped from her mount in a swift, spritely move.
Marin rushed in, his necklace bouncing with his strides. He barreled into them heartily. “I knew you were going to be okay; I knew it. We kept in contact with Thara—of the Mist, she told us everything.” Thara, Fray of the mist, and Lanico’s aunt. Lanico smiled recalling the aid that she gave them back at the Great Mist. Without her intervention the wooded village would have succumbed to the raging blaze the enemy Mysra created.
Anah came running over. Gish waited peacefully a distance away, a still, muscled statue. Lanico was pleased to see him recovered enough for training. He chose not to tell the others of the nature of his illness before they had left. It wasn’t nerves—not really. Greta not only knew but had been a vital aid, assisting him in recovering from his withdrawal from trillium. Though not of Mysra ancestry, Lanico deemed it was not likely an easy recovery, but now, seeing that gentle giant, seeing how he had just skillfully handled the sword brought new hope for him. Lanico’s mind then flicked to Marin and Anah, understanding they undoubtedly knew the truth as well by now.
Anah had been holding on to Treva, who was patting down wild sections of her red hair affectionately.
Marin turned to Lanico. “Did you find any others—to help with reclaiming your kingdom?”
As if by plan, the other two WynSprigns came riding in slowly from the thick of the forest. Close to one another, their legs were just about brushing. Their eyes were rounded, glowing in wonder as they approached the waiting group. They noticed the large Mysra in the back, near a glowing tree-crafted home. They shot anxious glances at each other. It was quite the sight for them to behold; a glowing home crafted from trees and a Mysra-friend?
With his Fray hearing, Lanico caught an exchange of worried words between Freck and Felena, and he closed his eyes tightly. He’d forgotten about the young warriors and the issue they may take in lodging with a Mysra—in a glowing cabin no less—which was crafted by his Fray mother. There would be much to explain. Perhaps sight alone will be explanation enough? He hoped it would be.
Lanico sighed and jerked his head toward the still-mounted pair. “Here they are.” Lanico gestured to Freck and Felena as an answer to Marin’s question.
Forced smiles, tainted with a mixture of both fear and wonder, plastered Freck’s and Felena’s faces.
Marin’s happy gaze melted at the appearance of Freck.
“Hey, Marin.” Freck started in an earnest tone, “It’s nice to see you.” He shifted in the saddle to dismount.
“Hello, Felena. Freck,” Marin responded blandly. “I’m glad you made it here safely.”
It was obvious to Lanico that his son’s tone said otherwise. He recognized the disingenuousness there. Without comment, Lanico took the horse’s reigns. He knew Marin well but hoped his feelings would soon change. They were a small group. With the looming castle take-over, they’d all have to rely on each another.
Freck quickly turned to help Felena down from her mount. She held her arms out, reaching for him. Once down, Freck held Felena closely against himself. Through the fog of so many surprises, latently she realized Freck’s lingering presence on her, and nudged him away.
Lanico shook his head, concealing a wry smile and guided all the horses to the river.
Marin introduced Anah, who had appeared to them a feral WynSprign. Her mane of unruly red hair was almost purple in the fading light. Her glowing, green eyes beamed excited crescents at them. “This is Anah,” Marin said proudly bringing the focus back on the introductions. She gave a bashful smile at this.
A voice cried out halting them, “Everyone, come inside! It has become too dark for any further sparring and training!” Their heads whirled as Greta shouted from her home over the small distance. Her tall, luminous form towered in the brightened doorway as the sun peeked over a ridge. Gish, the large Mysra, went lumbering toward the home.
“Ama, we have returned!” Lanico called out from somewhere behind, unseen in the distance.
“As if I didn’t feel it already!” She beamed answering back.
Both Freck and Felena were stunned stiff. Felena stood wavering, hinting at the prospect of fainting. Freck stumbled, trying, but failing to get his words out. “Th-that’s a-a—” Freck barely managed saying sidelong, from the corner of his mouth. “She’s the F-F-F—”
“A Fray.” Marin completed with confidence, “And coincidentally, my Fray grandmother, Greta.” Seeing the look on their faces, he clarified, “Lanico’s mother.” He tossed a glance at the house and then looked back at them again, their mouths still gaping as fish. He grinned deciding to dole out more astonishing information. “Oh, and that big guy going in over there, the Mysra, his name is Gish. He’s a friend of mine.” Marin guided Anah by the elbow to lead her into the house.
Freck and Felena stood outside, staring. They both nearly jumped from their skin when Lanico came from behind and slapped Freck on the back. He and Treva laughed lightly at their startled jolts, striding into the house for a much anticipated dinner.
✽✽✽
Once finished with more introductions and their hearty meal, they remained at the table. Greta cleared away the remnants. It was time to cover strategy. Lanico observed that his ama’s glow seemed curiously duller than he remembered from before. He wondered if she really had
been able to sense their arrival earlier. He shot a glance to everyone at the table and then lastly at Treva.
“Now it’s time to discuss a plan,” Treva started.
“Right.” Lanico had been anxious to have this conversation for long enough. For years.
“We—” Freck jerked his head toward Felena just next to him saying, “want to make sure that the Mysra will never come back to the Great Mist again. To stop any further attempts on them.” He carefully avoided eye contact with Gish.
Lanico said evenly, “With an established plan, I believe we can stop enemy Mysra together. I aim to restore the entire kingdom and bring peace to our shared realms.” Just as his Knights of old had.
Treva interjected to begin the unweaving of a solid plan. It had been one of her strengths so many years ago—strategy. Was one of the reasons for her Knighting and placement as Second Lieutenant amongst his elite. Her planned attacks in past years had brought their military much success.
The plan was reliant on the thicket near the trench, and the young WynSprigns and their unrecognizability to the Mysra guards. It would have to be Freck, Felena, and Marin. She detailed the path that they would all share. They couldn’t gamble sending the familiar faces of Anah, Gish, or Treva.
Treva, Gish, and Anah reviewed their knowledge of the layout. They were all to set up a discreet camp at the nearby forest, then came the reliance of the unrecognizable WynSprigns: Marin, Freck, and Felena. Once on sight, the three were to memorize tactical information: the guards’ schedules—providing that they didn’t change, the land mines, the trenches, and pits.
The more Knighted Second Lieutenant Treva spoke, the wider their eyes grew: in alarm, in challenging delight. “Since the battle at Great Mist, they are now greatly reduced in number. We can make a plan around their numbers, their positions, and their locations. They are now spread thin and it’s the perfect time to pounce. After Freck, Felena, and Marin report back, we should make our plan in coordinated waves.” She huffed saying, “Damn…I wish I had a map.”
“One moment.” Freck left the table and within seconds returned with several scrolls. “Here,” he said, setting them on the table in a mound. They rolled, still curled tightly.
Lanico raised an eyebrow. He narrowed his eyes on the familiar scrolls and reached to pluck one from the pile. “Th-this is an old map of the Odana Kingdom and grounds.” He shot Freck a surprised look.
Freck sank into his chair. He was about to open his mouth to apologize, but instead Lanico smiled and spoke, “Good thinking, Freck. I didn’t know you had thievery in your arsenal.” Freck opened his mouth to speak in defense of himself. “No—” Lanico cheerfully interjected, “No, I meant that as a compliment. You thought ahead where I hadn’t. Smart move.”
Treva cleared her throat and said, “May I see?” She edged in closer and took the document from Lanico’s grasp. The paper crinkled slightly in her care. Her eyes roamed over it, as she ran a finger over the textured mountains. She was pleased. She could give a more thorough detail of her waves of attack that, outside of Greta, involved them all. “Now, we could use the map to pinpoint critical spots, the guards, positions, and more.” Her eyes widened in delightful recognition. “Once you’ve returned with the needed information, we will work our way to the castle in planned waves—waves I will brief the details on shortly. Then, once your tasks have been executed, Lanico and I will continue advancement upon the castle.” Her finger drifted over the bleached castle illustration. “I know a way inside.” She slid a glance to Lanico, meeting his stare.
“You know a way inside?” Lanico wasn’t sure which way she meant. All ways were undoubtedly drenched with Mysra guards. He looked at her steadily.
“Yes—trust me,” she said in their wordless way.
He thought over this mystery and then concluded with a slight nod turning toward the others, “Then after these waves of attack have been discussed, we bed. Tomorrow, starting very early, we will spend the day training!” A vicious grin spread.
The din of low groans and murmurs rose from the table.
Lanico rumbled a low laugh and his wicked grin at their response. Treva rolled her eyes. He was a General, after all.
Chapter 8
Lady of the castle
A morning after breakfast, Grude excused himself from the butcher-block table. He rose to a stand. His sounds shifted in the stone kitchen. “Cantata.” He realized by her cautious expression just then how grim was the sound of his voice. He worked to make a cheerier tone. “Breakfast was cooked perfectly, the ham…” he sighed for a moment licking his thin gray lips. “Perfect.” He slapped at his middle—which had consequently grown leaner with his increased sword-practice.
Cantata smiled at the dish in her hand. “Well, anything for you, Grudie.”
His eyebrows lifted. He quite liked it. Grudie. He wouldn’t comment on that though. Pushing that aside, it was time to move forward. Forward with the plan and with showering Cantata—to delight her—to delight himself truthfully. “You ready?” he asked sounding hopeful.
She stopped her working at the washing trough and turned to look at him over her shoulder. Her face now suddenly somber with confusion. She wiped her wet hands on a rag.
Reading her stare, Grude continued in a gleeful tone, “The fitting! You remember, for the new dresses I mentioned a week ago?”
Remembering, her eyes gleamed with exhilaration. “That’s today?”
He nodded.
“It’s-it’s now?” Mounting enthusiasm rang a higher pitch in her voice. “But-but I was certain that the Prondolin tailors would have taken simply weeks to arrive here.”
She obviously didn’t realize the famed pair wouldn’t travel by mere horse and cart. She also didn’t realize that he had previously ordered shipments of fabric for other now-forgotten reasons. He only gave a cat’s smile by way of response.
Her movements became fast. She whirled from the trough, trying to untie her apron with a jerk of her hand. “Oh my, well what do I do? Where do we go?” A flurry of nervous questions fluted from her. She tossed the apron to the table and hastily pressed her disobedient hair down, aware of the jagged strands habitually springing out.
“Come. Let’s leave this kitchen now, and make our way to the former WynSprign Prince’s chambers, where the tailors and supplies await.”
Cantata’s heart thumped. In all her years living here, she had never visited the royal corridor—let alone the General Prince’s former chambers! The Myra sentries at the base of that stairway said she didn’t have access beyond, toward the royal corridors, and she wouldn’t dare cross them—not even to sneak a peek. Her mind positively swirled at the thought of having tailors brought here—just for her. Grude was certainly being generous. It was most flattering. If he intended to woo her, this was surely working.
He held his arm out for her to cling to. She excitedly accepted. The feeling of his boulder-like muscles in her palms, sent a flutter of warmth to her cheeks. Lanico’s and the other royals’ rooms were on the level above. Together they marched out from the kitchen, down the long hall, and up the curved stairwell and then to the royal family’s corridor. The sword-wielding sentries didn’t even cut them a glance as they passed and then moved in that secured direction.
Their steps cast echoes against endless stone. Because the castle was built into the granite mountain the corridors and seemingly countless rooms were carved to fit its unique shape. And colossal. When the door had craned open, she hadn’t grasped how large these rooms could have been.
Awestruck for a number of reasons, Cantata had never before laid eyes on Lanico’s massive and opulent rooms, nor had she ever seen what Raya, the dead Princess, had looked like. Aside from the expanse, her image was the second thing she noticed. The beautiful painting exhibited Raya’s dark eyes, raven hair, and soft feminine features, a stark contrast to the hard, organized, militant chamber witnessed all around. She had long heard about the deceased Princess and remembered the years of mo
urning the castle had been laid under. When she had died, Cantata was still working at her father’s tavern.
The room of red stone was filled with ancient paintings, framed maps, busts, a wall of elaborate glinting weapons, a war desk with the layout of the Odana lands, and metal figurines and gilded armor; a General’s dream. With ample open space to move. The General Prince probably trained and practiced in here, Cantata determined in wild amazement. So large and open. She realized in confirmation that her current room would have indeed been one of the General Prince’s closets.
Other than the fact that this room had seemed untouched over the years, the only recent additions of the Prondolins had been superficial changes. The militant appearance of the room betrayed as the stone walls were covered by lovely fabrics in all colors and many prints that the tailor had brought in. It was a colorful mess in comparison to the order that hinted beneath the strewn tulle and laces.
The Legacy of Lanico: Return of the Son: Book two of the Legacy of Lanico series Page 7