by LeRoy Clary
“I’ll explain it all,” Sir James said to the younger guard.
“What happens when they get wet?” Hannah asked.
The Old Mage said, “A simple chemical reaction with water, enhanced by a little magic. The grapes ignite and burn a bright yellow fire that spits out myriad yellow sparks for a few minutes, long enough to panic the horses and riders, although I will also let loose some screamers.”
Hannah said, “Screamers? That sounds scary.”
“Oh, they’re just some screams I’ve captured over the years from various dungeons. I’ll release them to help panic the horses and men.”
Hannah and the younger guard passed another look as if to see which would ask the question both wanted to ask. Hannah won. “You captured screams? How?”
“Magic, of course. I save them for when needed. Screams can be very effective if used right.” The Mage dug into the contents again. He said, “Twenty more men after us, huh? I suppose all carry coin again, so it’s another indication of great wealth in our enemy. I want to speak with the leader, if possible.”
“You’re going with them?” Hannah protested, suddenly understanding.
“Well, I have to call down the rain for the grape-fire to work, and I’ll manage the screams, of course. You’ll stay here where it’s safe.”
She looked around and shook her head. “No, it isn’t safe here without you, and what happens if you fail?”
The Old Mage gripped her shoulders. “What happens tonight will imprint on your mind forever if you see another battle. It’s best you stay here.”
She set her chin and clenched her teeth. “If you try to leave me here I’ll follow. My father will not face this danger without me at his side. You can’t make me stay.”
Sir James shrugged, “She has a point.”
The Mage said, “Tomorrow you and I will have a conversation about daughters obeying their fathers. But tonight you will stay with me, right at my back, and you will do only that which I tell you.”
They set off at a quick pace. The Mage led the way while holding a pale globe that spread only enough light to allow them to avoid the largest obstacles. Once they reached the road, travel became easier. The two guards carried their blades, and Hannah carried hers, the short blade from the scabbard on her hip, long enough some considered a long knife, but in no way a sword, the small handle perfectly fitted to her small hand.
When they reached the place where the forest grew right up to the sides of the road, The Mage slowed and then pointed to where he judged looked ideal. The left side of the road was uphill with a small bank almost waist high. Horses would not leap up the bank and travel in that direction. The other side of the road fell away down a shallow slope. Hannah surveyed it as critically as the other three, imagining panicked horses. They wouldn’t jump up the bank so they would run downhill since they couldn’t go ahead or behind because of the grape-fire. Downhill would be the natural direction.
The two guards had already dismounted and began. They cut the brush away with their swords quickly, leaving an opening in the almost solid undergrowth. It was wide enough for two horses to fit through at the beginning. A few steps inside it narrowed enough for one horse to pass, the wide opening an invitation for a panicked horse searching for a way to escape. Ten steps further down the path stood a pine tree large enough to be split for firewood. An oak grew on the other side of the path, the trunk larger around than her waist.
The younger guard hacked one side of a smaller pine tree trunk the diameter of her arm, while Sir James worked to clear the branches from it. When it fell, they made short work of trimming the rest of the branches, and while one tied it to the oak with strips of leather, the other held the other end. They adjusted the height and finished securing it with a few loops of leather cut from a larger sheet and again adjusted the height to clear the ears of a horse.
The Mage showed each where he should hide beside the road, one on either side of the trap. He pulled on his cape and the others followed suit, so Hannah pulled on the cape her father handed her, but not before she looked up at the clear sky and the stars. The moon was not out yet, so the night was dark and crisp. The Mage had long ago put the glowing globe he used as a light into a leather sack and pulled the strings tight to prevent the light from leaking out, warning those coming.
The Mage took Hannah across the road to the high side, leaving the guards near the trap with their instructions to bring him, prisoners. He sat on the ground and spread his cape around himself, like a small tent. Hannah copied his actions. He muttered a few words and soon the rain began to fall. Not heavily, but a persistent light rain that she imagined would soak the dirt road and turn the top layer into a wet mire.
Then they waited. She tried to keep her eyes open and couldn’t. When she did half-wake once, her head was cradled on the Mage’s leg, his hand stroking her hair gently under the hood. She went back to sleep.
His hand gently shook her. She heard the beat of horse hooves coming down the road, and one horse snorted. Leather squeaked, and metal clinked as the hooves fell. In the starlight, she made out the column of men, riding two across, although her vision lacked detail. They rode at a fair speed, indicating they had somewhere to be. She saw no indication they’d taken the time to pull on cloaks against the light rain.
The first of them passed her location. When she estimated half were beyond, Hannah worried that the grape-fire hadn’t worked, and the plan would fail. Then a burst of brilliant yellow flared and sputtered on the road in front of the lead horses. Then another, each shooting out fire knee high and crackling and popping like pine pitch in a fire, only more so.
Men shouted orders at each other, one horse bucked and reared, almost losing the rider. More bursts of yellow fire went off behind the last horses in the column. Those horses closest to the grape-fire wheeled and tried to run away. Soon the entire group was a tangle of wild, scared horses milling about in fear, the men trying to control them.
The Mage had stood unnoticed in the dim night shadows under the trees in the forest. He held two jars in his left hand. He broke the seal on the first and pulled the top off. From inside it, a man’s voice screamed in so much pain that his voice trailed off to a gurgle near the end. Then he started screaming again, in even more pain, if possible. Hannah felt the hairs on her neck stand up, and she shivered in fear at the voice.
The Mage removed the top of the second jar. A woman’s high-pitched scream joined in even louder than the first voice, and far more piercing. A few horses screamed their response. Horses spun and ran into each other. Men tried to calm them, but the horses wanted a way out, the fear driving them to rear and their eyes to turn wild.
A single horse spotted the open pathway and charged ahead, the rider sitting erect and barely holding on. Another horse saw the first flee down the path, and it raced after it. Hannah listened but didn’t hear them striking the horizontal tree, nor any moans or shouts of warning to the other riders.
A third horse, this one in total panic, threw its rider onto the road, reared up, hooves clawing the air as it screamed in terror. The screaming voices the Mage released continued, and Hannah put her hands over her ears, but couldn’t shut out the awful sounds.
The grape-fire at the rear of the line sputtered out. A horse broke that way, and others followed back up the road they had traveled, but not before another horse ran down the path to the crossbeam, the rider sitting high in the saddle to keep his balance. Then, as if by a magic spell, all the riders and horses were gone. The grape-fire sputtered out.
The Mage recapped the jars and the screams mercifully quieted and ceased. He reached for her hand and ran to the path where both guards were busy tying hands behind the backs of two men. A fourth lay on the ground, unmoving.
Hannah wiped tears from each of her cheeks and wished she had remained in camp, after all. The screams alone would keep away for many nights. The Mage led the way, again removing his globe from the leather bag to light the way. Behind, she heard t
heir guards threatening their prisoners to move faster. The rain quit and the trip back to their camp seemed to take longer. Hannah closed her eyes and tried walking that way, but tripped. When the Mage cast a worried glance at her, she tried to smile her tiredness away.
She heard the hiss of an arrow passing close to her in the night air, and a dull thud as it embedded into the chest of the Old Mage, only half the shaft still exposed. His eyes went wide in surprise and pain. His knees gave way, and he crumpled instead of falling to the ground. Hannah leapt to his side. He looked into her eyes and then at Sir James. A tiny spark flashed in his eyes as if he tried to light the smallest fire with them. She heard a last, ragged breath escape his body. He went limp. The King’s Mage was dead.
Her father was dead.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Hannah remained with the Old Mage until Sir James bodily snatched her off of him and tossed her over his shoulder to carry her away. In the distance, she heard the horses of their attackers returning on the road. The pounding of their hooves grew. The archer in the darkness may have another arrow ready to fly at any time, or there may be more of them waiting their turn. She lost awareness of the danger as she wept for a father she had known for less than a full day.
Other pursuit sounded in the form of two dogs barking and howling. “I’ll take care of them,” the younger guard said, reaching for the bow the older one carried in his free hand. That left Sir James to grab Hannah and throw her over his shoulder like a sack of flour. She looked at the younger guard. They passed a look between them. She understood she wouldn’t see him again if they caught him.
Hannah bounced along scared but fighting any emotion. She put up as little fight as any ever had, and yet despite the danger, her tears returned again and again.
Not long after, one of the dogs howled painfully, then quieted. The second dog no longer barked either. To her surprise, the younger guard again caught up with them, shy two arrows. “Want me to carry her for a while?”
“I got her,” the other grunted. “You watch our backs.”
They rushed on through the night, across fields, streams, and one small river. The old guard ran so long and so hard Hannah’s stomach couldn’t take more pounding. She said, “Put me down.”
He slid her off his shoulder and fell to his knees, wheezing for each breath. Hannah used the time to look around. The crescent moon had risen, and she saw they were on the slope of a long hillside. Beyond rose another hill, but she saw no sign of the road, lantern, house, or field cleared by people.
The guard started to stand, and she grabbed his arm and helped him up. His eyes glazed, and she felt tiny tremors under his skin where she touched him. While she had pitied herself and rested over his shoulder, the man had almost run himself to death. Hannah had heard Cleanup tell tales of dedicated horses doing the same.
“Let me carry some of your things.”
He stood taller as if the words insulted him. “I’ll carry them. You just try to keep up with me, or I’ll have you back over my shoulder.”
The words came staccato, almost one at a time, between his panting. However, he managed to stay on his feet and began walking. Hannah followed, and as she convinced herself of how good she was at keeping up, he caught his second breath. His pace increased, and she struggled to maintain the same speed.
A sound behind them drew her attention. Her hand found her knife, and she hissed a warning to Sir James as she spun to face whatever approached. The young guard came into view and gave a half-wave as he stumbled forward.
“He’s not just tired,” she said. “I think he’s hurt.”
They rushed to him, finding an arrow high up on his back where he couldn’t reach it, and he hadn’t had time to try. Sir James reached out and snapped it off, leaving almost half the arrow inside. A stream of blood soaked his left thigh where another arrow left a round hole in his pants leg. He must have pulled that one out himself.
The old guard threw him over his shoulder like he’d carried Hannah. He looked at her, “Take his bow and a few arrows. Stay behind us and let an arrow fly at anything you see. If nothing else, that might slow them.”
Hannah looked at the weapon in her hand and the arrows in the other. She had never held either, but she had watched the palace guards practice. How hard could it be?
She followed them at a distance, never so far she would lose sight, but far enough to hear anyone crashing through the forest after them. The old guard moved slowly. At a ridge he and his cargo disappeared. She raced forward.
They were at the bottom of a stream bed. The banks stood taller than her head. A recent flood had torn away at the bank, and a massive tree fell exposing the roots. The two men were almost there, and when they reached it, he placed the injured young one gently on the ground.
Sir James said, “Hannah, can you rip my shirt into strips and wet them in the water?”
She accepted the proffered shirt and rushed to the water. She cut the sleeves off with her knife and ripped them into several strips before wetting them. When she returned to the pair of guards, the younger one lay on the ground, breathing in shallow breaths, sweat coating his body.
She handed Sir James the strips, and he knelt and wrapped the wound on the leg with the first strip. He folded a pad and slipped it under the wrapping where the wound began to bleed again. He examined the broken arrow and muttered, “Maybe at dawn we can do something about this.”
“You’re going to leave it in there?” Hannah asked, her anger rising. “I can pull it out.”
“No. Do that and he’ll die on us. He’s already lost too much blood.”
“So you’re going to leave that arrow stuck in him?”
“It’s the best way. It will help plug the hole.”
Hannah went to her knees in the sand beside the wounded man. His eyes watched her, and he whispered, “Water.”
She ran back to the edge of the river, but found she had nothing that would carry water. She stripped off her smock and used it to soak up water, then rushed it to the injured guard and dribbled it into his mouth. “More?”
The merest nod of his head sent her back to the river two more times. His eyelids closed, and she held her cheek next to his mouth to feel his breath, shallow but regular. She wore no smock, had no blanket or coat, and the night chill closed in about her. Sir James returned from making a wide circle around them, searching for enemies. From the look on his face, Hannah decided she wouldn’t want to be one of them if he found any. After making sure Hannah had things in hand, he left again.
Her smock hung over a branch to dry as well as it could in the night air, but if he woke and wanted more water, she’d soak it again. A shiver took her by surprise. Then another, and she realized how cold the night had become. Her smock was too wet and cold to wear, the carriage held blankets and extra clothing, but by now their pursuers must have found it. The danger was too great for a fire.
She wrapped her arms around herself and watched the younger guard until he died. She tugged and pulled at his limp body until he lay flat. She crossed his arms over his chest and wished him a safe journey. Then she stood and pulled the knife from her scabbard and dared any of the pursuers to come her way.
Sir James slid down the bank, took one look at the other guard, and nodded at how she’d placed him. “We have three less after us than a while ago, but it’s time we put some distance between them and us.”
She nodded, shivered again, and stood ready to follow.
“I’ll get his shirt,” Sir James said.
“No. I won’t wear it.”
Sir James paused, then turned away as he gently removed the shirt from the other guard and placed his arms crossed over his chest again. “You will. I cannot have you die of cold tonight. If we move fast, your body will warm. You’ll wear his shirt with no argument.”
She cast one last look at the other guard and nodded. Sir James also looked one last time and even in the dim moonlight, she saw the glint of the tear in his eye and the prayer h
e muttered for the other knight. She grabbed her wet smock and carried it.
“Let me know if I’m moving too fast,” he said over his shoulder. The knight climbed down the stream’s banks to where the sides of the stream were low. After a pause at the top to make sure they were alone, he broke into a sort of ground-eating trot, faster than a walk, slower than running. They stayed away from the thick of the forest as they followed the stream, but were prepared to duck under cover of the trees at any time.
The sliver of a moon and the bright stars provided more than enough light to move and see all but the smaller rocks, branches, vines, and holes that tripped them. Hannah found herself trying to fit her feet into the same places he did, and when he tripped or stumbled, she slowed to navigate that place.
Sir James had been mostly right about the need for a shirt. She hardly noticed until he pulled to a stop and slipped the remnants of his shirt over his head. The night grew colder. She listened to the night sounds, the insects, and for any sound that shouldn’t be there. She knew to do that because even though she had spent no time in the forests, it was what she would do.
The shirt she wore hung to her knees, the sleeves also to her knees, and the hole she places her head through tended to slip off to one side and over her shoulder. But it warmed her from the night air and the warmth it absorbed from her body, and it smelled of an earthy man, strong, but good.
She pulled the long sleeves of each arm into her fists and said, “Let’s go.”
“Yes, my princess.”
Before she could wonder at the name and respond, he again trotted ahead. The vegetation thinned, but he made no effort to move faster. He kept up the same relentless pace, one step, two. One step, two.
She said, “Is it wise to follow the stream?”
“We’re lost,” he said. “All streams eventually come to crossings, bridges, or flow into larger streams and river with crossings or bridges. People live along them, so the farm animals have water.”