The Thirteenth Knight

by Tricia Andersen

  Miranda frowned. “Then, there is no possible way to free them.”

  The young man grinned. “I wouldn’t say that. There is a rumor that at the end of the tunnel where the cells are located is a secret door. It exits at the base of the cliffs, at the edge of the forest.”

  “That is incredible information. Thank you so much,” she gushed. She wrapped the free arm not clenching the clothes around him in a hug. Then, she quickly closed the door, unlaced her bodice, and tugged her gown over her head, tossing it on the bed. She peeled her undergarments off, piling them beside the gown.

  Dressing in men’s clothes took some getting used to. She adjusted the leggings several times until they were finally comfortable. It took quite a bit of time for her to get all the buckles in the right place. She paced her room for a long while until the boots no longer hurt her feet. Finally, she was dressed and ready. Tugging the hood of the cloak over her head, she looked at her image in the mirror. She laughed. She was unrecognizable.

  Next, she dug in the box that held all the jewelry that Thaddeus had given her. She nudged away the gold, silver, and priceless jewels until she found a vial of pale blue liquid. Her smile blossomed wider. This will be a great help against four large men.

  Now, she was ready find her Thatcher and rescue him. She pried open her bedchamber door and peeked outside. Two of Brunon’s men guarded the hall, preventing her escape. Closing the door, she searched her room. She grasped a rock that tumbled from the courtier’s boot and opened the door again.

  With all her strength, she tossed the rock past the men. They charged in the direction of the noise as it bounced off the wall. She slipped from her room, silently closing the door behind her before disappearing down the hall.

  * * * *

  Thatcher closed his eyes as he moaned. His muscles were numb, but his stomach had stopped aching days ago. His breath came in short, raspy gasps. He clenched his eyes tight. He could not give up. He had to survive to save his Miranda.

  As he heard the heavy wood door to his cell creak, his eyes slit open. He clenched his hands into fists. He didn't care how weak he was. He would not take another beating. He could not see who entered clearly in the darkness of the dungeon. All he could discern was that the person was small. The figure scurried across the room to him.

  "What do you want?" Thatcher growled. His demand was answered by the tinkling of metal as his hand fell free from the wall. Moments later, his other hand was released also.

  Thatcher slumped to the floor, his legs too weak to support his weight. The small figure wrapped its arms around him. "Sir Thatcher, you must hurry. You must get his majesty out of here before he is executed," the voice whispered.

  Thatcher nodded in agreement. He summoned his strength and stood. With the small person's help, he stumbled from the cell. In the dim light of the torches hanging from the walls of the corridor, he could see his rescuer was a young courtier. But there is something about this young man that is familiar...

  "Who are you?" Thatcher questioned as the young man dashed into Thaddeus's cell. He rubbed his frozen muscles until the courtier reappeared, supporting the monarch with his small frame.

  "My name is Ewen. I have recently been employed at the palace, before Brunon took power."

  The two men struggled to gather their strength as Ewen quickly freed the rest of the knights. "How did you get in?" Thaddeus inquired. "We were under heavy guard."

  "Your majesty, there is no time. You must escape. There is a door at the end of this corridor that leads into the forest. Beware, as it is daytime. If you are not careful, you will be seen."

  Thatcher breezed past Ewen. "I am not leaving without Miranda."

  Ewen grabbed his linen shirt to stop him. "My lord, if you go into the palace, you will be re-captured. I promise you, I will protect my lady."

  Thatcher glared down the corridor leading to the palace. With a huff, he spun on his toe and retreated in the other direction. Thaddeus and the other knights followed. Thatcher dropped his shoulder and forced the door in the rock open. They all cringed as the sun blinded them, flooding the space in white light. Thatcher glanced one last time at their rescuer before following the rest of the men to freedom.

  They all paused for a brief moment to adjust to the sunlight. As a group, they surged between the trees of the forest, dodging low-lying limbs and snaking vines as they worked to bury themselves deeper into the woods.

  Once the palace was out of sight, Thatcher stopped. “We have to come up with a plan about where we are going. We cannot run aimlessly among the timber. We will be found.”

  “I have a great plan,” William barked. “I am going to run until I reach the ocean then take the first ship away from this kingdom. Those black-clad soldiers are controlled by Brunon. We will never retake the palace. It is best we cut our losses and run.”

  “Do you think Brunon’s power is limited to this land?” Thatcher retorted. “Frankly, I do not. And I have no losses. I only have gains.”

  “You have Miranda. We all understand that. I have no beautiful lass waiting for me in the palace to rescue them.”

  “You did take a vow to serve me,” Thaddeus boomed. “You would desert your homeland? Do your parents not live in a village in the northern providence of this kingdom? Do you think if you disappear, Brunon won’t go find them?” William paled as Thaddeus’s words played in his mind. Thaddeus continued, “Thatcher, you will take the lead. What do you think we should do?”

  “We need to move. Constantly. But first, we need to find a place to regroup.”

  Charles, the smallest of the knights, with a thin build but a quick wit and sword, spoke timidly. “There is a wood near my home village that is rumored to be haunted. The trees in the center are so thick you cannot see daylight.”

  “Then, that is where we will go,” Thatcher concluded. “Charles, lead the way.”

  * * * *

  Miranda slipped into her bedchamber. She quickly peeled the linen shirt, tunic, and leggings from her body. Then, she freed her long, brown hair from the cap, shaking it loose as it fell before tugging her gown back on and lacing it closed. Tossing the courtier’s clothing onto her quilt, she rolled it up in the blanket then stashed it in the farthest corner of her wardrobe.

  She settled into her window seat, reveling in the sunlight as she inspected the vial the apothecary had delivered to her. The sleeping potion he had brewed for her to help her sleep had worked perfectly. The four large guards had fallen unconscious within seconds of breathing the vapors in.

  Miranda sighed as she gazed out the window. Despite the urgency of the moment, holding Thatcher in her arms for those brief seconds had made her heart race. She wished she would have escaped with him. But Brunon would be furious to find Thaddeus and his knights missing. If she were gone too, he would send his mysterious, black-garbed men after them. Until she could figure out how to stop them, she would have to stay captive to Brunon.

  Content, she smiled as she basked in the warmth of the sun. As long as her knight was free, so would she soon be.

  It didn’t take long for Miranda’s happiness to be crushed. Within minutes of returning to her bedchamber, Brunon discovered what she had done. He summoned all the members of the palace to the throne room. The four dungeon guards that had watched over Thaddeus and his knights were shackled together. They knelt on the floor, unable to stand from the beating they had already been given.

  Once every member of the house had assembled, Brunon began his interrogation. He tortured the four men slowly as he demanded to know why they had set free his prisoners. The men pleaded their innocence in strained, weak voices. They told him over and over it was not them. Someone small, possibly a child, had overpowered them and sent them to sleep. They remained resolute until their very last breath, until the last man fell into the puddle of their collective blood.

  Miranda shuddered. It was not only the scene that horrified her. It was the joy that beamed from Brunon’s face as he murdered his guards
. Brunon had no sense of mercy in his heart. She needed to find the source of his invincible army and quick. She needed her valiant knight.

  Once the men were dead, Brunon turned his fury on the rest of the palace. He declared to them all that he would find whoever aided these traitors and that individual would suffer the same fate. Several servants he dismissed quickly. They were too old, too young, or too frail to accomplish such at feat. He stopped far too long at Miranda, studying her before he spoke.

  “What about you, Lady Miranda? Were you part of this plot? It was your lover who was freed, was it not?” he demanded.

  Miranda gathered all her courage and stared deep into his gray eyes. “Me, Count Brunon? I am but a woman. How could I overpower such large men? And I am under constant guard. How could I aid them?”

  Brunon growled at her response then dismissed all who remained. Miranda wasted no time fleeing the throne room and the horrific sight. Boot steps echoed through the long hallway as Brunon’s soldiers escorted Miranda to her bedchamber. After what she had just witnessed, she knew she would have nightmares for weeks.

  She sat at the edge of her bed and slowly brushed her long, brown hair as she listened for noise outside her door. Once she heard silence, she dashed to her wardrobe and pulled free the quilt. Quickly, she changed from her gown back to the courtier clothes she had been given.

  There was no time to waste. It was time for Ewen to find some answers. And maybe, if the answers were worthwhile, to risk delivering them to Sir Thatcher. Herself.

  Miranda slipped through the corridors of the palace, desperately searching each door and chamber she came to. She whimpered as each quest came up empty. She stomped her foot stubbornly. She refused to give up hope.

  As she approached the throne room, she pressed herself against the wall. The bodies of the dead guards had been removed and the blood spill cleaned. Now, Brunon held mock court with his men and the lords that had foolishly aligned themselves to him. She scowled. When Thaddeus took the throne again, she would make sure those traitors were rightly punished.

  Sneaking past, she continued down a corridor she had never ventured before. She stopped for a moment. It led to the bedchambers of Thaddeus's thirteen knights. While her uncle had been on the throne, it would have been indecent for her to venture here. Now that Brunon was in power, if it would save the kingdom, she did not care what anyone thought.

  She glanced from one room to the other, finding still nothing. Then, she spied the final room at the end of the hall. Even from the outside, it was far smaller than the others. She tiptoed to the doorway and stepped inside.

  Her breath escaped her as she surveyed the area. She wasn't sure what amazed her more. Amongst the meager furnishings, she saw tokens of home. Tokens that were dear to her. To Thatcher. She instinctively grasped a nearby linen shirt and buried her face in it to breathe in the smell of him, the smell of evergreen, of the outdoors, of man. Oh, yes. This is Thatcher's room.

  However, those weren't the only items present. There were also maps of the surrounding area hammered into the wall with nails. Each one was marked carefully with the location of Thaddeus and his knights' encampments.

  In the corner of the room, next to the head of Thatcher's bed, was a large, lavender crystal pulsing and glowing with an unnatural light. Scattered throughout the rest of the abode were smaller versions, also glowing and pulsing like the mother rock. Miranda had no idea what dark magic the crystals produced. If it took her last breath, she would find out.

  Miranda carefully inspected the parchments for the most recently noted one and smiled. She pried it from the wall, rolled it up, and stuffed it inside the courtier's embroidered coat she wore. Then, she tucked Thatcher's shirt alongside it. Steeling her courage, she thought of the least guarded way out of the palace. She spied outside for anyone approaching then silently ran down the corridor for the nearest door to the courtyard to make her escape.

  Miranda ran along the dirt road, the map firmly clenched in her fist. The old, weathered wood fence bordering the path led the way to the forest. She stopped, breathless for a moment, as she gazed into the clear, blue sky. It reminded her of Thatcher’s eyes. The afternoon sun was descending into the horizon far quicker than she had hoped.

  Disappointed, she sighed. She would have to make her visit to the camp brief so she could be back to the palace before nightfall. She might be dressed as a man, but she would be no match if bandits attacked her.

  Unrolling the diagram, she studied it. Then, she glanced up at the road to get her bearings before her eyes descended back to the map. She hoped against hope that it was wrong, that the king and his knights were not camped where the parchment indicated. She rolled it back up and continued her jog.

  Miranda slipped between two broken rails of the wood fence into the thick, dark forest. Her heart thundered in terror. These were the types of woods that the men of her village had frightened her with when they told their tales. She startled at the hoot of an owl, at the rustle of an animal in the brush. Swallowing back the lump forming in her throat, she steeled her courage and trudged on.

  She screamed as a vice wrapped tightly around her bicep. Whatever it was that took her captive spun her around. Her breath locked in her throat as she touched noses with Sir William, one of Thaddeus’s knights. His eyes bored into hers with a murderous heat. “What business do you have in these woods?” he demanded.

  Miranda swallowed hard. Her voice trembled as she spoke. "Sir William, it is I. Ewen, the courtier from the palace."

  William frowned at her as his grip loosened. "Aye. The lad who set us free. What are you doing in these woods, Ewen? It is dangerous. And how did you find us in the first place?"

  Miranda still couldn't hide the tremor in her voice. "I was searching the palace. I found Brunon's maps. They led me to you."

  She heard William curse beneath his breath. The tall, strong knight let her go and cocked his head. "Come, Ewen. You need to tell Thatcher what you found."

  "Yes, my lord." Miranda followed William deeper into the thick, dark forest. At the moment, the branches above completely cut out the light of day, and she could see the glimmer of a bonfire ahead. William held back a bramble of wild thorns for her to pass through.

  Thatcher looked up from the document he was studying with Thaddeus as the two of them stepped into the campsite. Miranda's heart thundered in her chest at the sight of him. Her knees buckled. His sapphire blue eyes made every nerve in her body purr. She bit her lower lip, wishing for just one kiss.

  William's voice disrupted her thoughts. "Thatcher, Ewen has brought news from the palace," he announced.

  "Miranda?" he demanded.

  She could hear the desperation in his voice. He misses me. It took every ounce of her self-control not to throw her arms around him. "No, my lord," she fought out. "I have maps. They led me here."

  Thatcher crossed around the fire to her. He held out his hand silently. She pulled the parchments free from her jacket and laid them in his palms. He unrolled and studied them, muttering a string of curses beneath his breath, just as William did.

  "We are not safe, Thatcher. Brunon can find us," William warned.

  Thatcher stood over Miranda, dwarfing her small frame with his large, muscular one. "Where did you find these, Ewen?”

  "In the knights’ wing of the palace. Brunon has turned your bedchamber into a war room, Sir Thatcher."

  "Was there anything else there? Anything of importance?"

  "There were several purple crystals pulsating with light. I don't know what they are for."

  She noticed his stature soften. "And Lady Miranda? Is she safe?"

  Miranda smiled. "Yes, my lord. She has hidden herself away from Brunon and only sees him when he demands her presence at meal time."

  A look of relief flooded Thatcher's face. "Ewen, you need to make me this promise. Destroy any of these maps you find in my bedchamber. Brunon cannot know where we are. Study them beforehand, so you know where to find us. Report to
us several times a week. Find out what those crystals do. Tell Miranda that I love her, and please, please protect her. Make me this bargain, and I promise you we will end Brunon."

  Miranda's heart was light at his confession of love. She could barely speak. "Aye. I promise. And I feel safe to tell you that she loves you, too. It’s obvious that she misses you greatly."

  Thatcher's smile shone brighter than the flames. "Good. Now go before night falls. It is your only chance to get out of these woods safely."

  Miranda stood rooted in her place for a moment, staring at him, etching him into her memory. Then, she turned and stepped between the large trunks of the trees into the darkness of the forest.

  Chapter Four

  A couple days felt like an eternity. Miranda shuffled down the hall escorted by two of Brunon’s men as she returned to her bedchamber. It had been another disastrous breakfast. She was unsure where her betrothed and his men had learned their dining manners. The swine in the village where she grew up behaved better at the table than they did.

  Closing her door, she took her seat at the window. She waited silently, reading the book she had snuck from the palace library, until she no longer heard sounds outside her door. Brunon’s men never had the patience to stand guard. After all, what harm could such a little woman do?

  If they only knew.

  Digging in the back of her wardrobe for her quilt, she tugged on each piece of the courtier’s uniform. She winced. If didn’t smell wonderful when the courtier gave it to her, its scent was getting worse. She would have to find a way to wash it before too long.

  Miranda opened her door and glanced both ways before stepping out. Her footsteps were light as she pressed flush against the smooth, cold stone walls, attempting to make herself invisible as she made her way to the knights’ quarters. She slipped inside Thatcher’s bedchamber.