by LeRoy Clary
“The King’s son may rule that long, too! He may have children of his own, and then I will move back.”
“Royal intrigue is a curious thing, my Princess. Younger sons often kill their older brothers. Sisters poison brothers. A carriage containing the right four people can roll off a cliff and someone far down the line as number five becomes King the next day. Few kings live long lives and the same for Queens. The closer you are to the crown the more danger you are in.”
“I would be safer if I was number twenty in that line of yours?”
“Safer from assassination, for sure. But, each position in line also determines the castle you live in, the royal allowance provided, and the lineage of your children. One unfortunate death may move your children from obscurity to bearing a title. The competition is fierce.”
“I didn’t ask for any of this. How do I get out of it?” Hannah asked.
“You don’t. At least not for many years. From the King’s viewpoint, you have an obligation to serve your people unless you cannot do so because of ailment, age, or insanity. The King will not allow you to make such a decision at a young age. You are far too young to make a choice that lasts a lifetime and affects tens of thousands.”
Hannah sat and stewed. There had to be a way out. “How old is the King’s son?”
“Thirty-five, maybe a year or two older. He could have many good years ahead of him to rule the kingdom, and of course, if he fathers, children, they will step in front of you in the line.”
“Is he married?”
The Knight cleared his throat before speaking as if stalling before answering. He chose his words carefully. “I believe the King’ son, the Royal Prince has a very handsome boyfriend.”
The statement took a second to sink in. If the Prince had a boyfriend, there would be no children. “I’m beginning to understand. No matter what I do, if the King recognizes me as my father’s child, I’m doomed. I’ll upset the whole line. Maybe he won’t name me as my father’s daughter.”
Sir James laughed softly to himself and when finished, paused and then laughed again. “There is no chance he will not. First of all, I will testify to what I know, and that is enough to establish your royalty. Second, he was a great friend to your father and will insist you take your rightful place. But, most of all is my third reason. If he formally recognizes you, the assassination of his son becomes less likely because that places you on his throne. You will prevent others from taking the crown by killing his son, the Prince so that you protect his son.”
“You could lie to him about me,” Hannah said.
“No, I’m sworn to the crown. I cannot lie to my King. And I made my promises to your father, a man I greatly admired and liked.”
“So, I’m almost a Queen whether I like it or not?”
“Only if we avoid the rest of the assassins roaming the land in search of you.”
CHAPTER TEN
By the time the sun came up Hannah had been awake for some time. She reviewed all Sir James told her about families, Kings and Queens, jealousy, murder, and power, understanding most, but not all. One item stood out above all the rest. The tiny flame on her index finger had flamed and spread into a roaring firestorm, with her at the center.
All she had wished a few days ago was to be recognized by the Old Mage for who she was. There was no intent to leave the Earl’s Castle with him or any of the other hundred things that either happened or threatened to happen. Her dreams had been simple. She wanted to get to know each other on his visit, and on future visits. She hoped they might walk around the stables while he told her about far off places and people she’d never meet. She could share things in her life with him, tell him which of the cooks were nice to her, about a new task assigned to her, and perhaps she would have gained a little respect in the eyes of the cooks and other servants in the Earl’s Castle because of their relationship. Those were her hopes and dreams. Simple things.
As the morning light increased, she saw the vast amount of blood on the knight’s shirt and pants. It looked like he had been to a pig slaughter. Dried blood caked his neck, but she still was not certain it was not all his.
He snored softly but had mentioned he wanted to leave at first light. Chasing after the three assassins must have been tiring for him, and waking the Knight didn’t seem right since he had been away most of the night. The horses glanced her way now and then as if they were anxious to leave. The one she rode snorted and rolled its eyes.
In the conversation last night, he’d also mentioned there were other assassins searching for her. Assassins who were paid to kill her for a reward. They may have traveled all night. One might be within sight. The thought struck her almost as a blow. Her head spun to make sure none had crept close. Then she examined the edge of the clearing again as she shook the Knight awake more roughly than required.
He didn’t grumble or moan, but from the tiredness in his eyes, he should have. He stood, pointed to the horses, and said, “Let’s be on our way.”
His horse turned sideways to her, and she noticed several objects tied behind the saddle that hadn’t been there the day before. His eyes followed hers. “Ever use a bow?”
“No. I’ve seen the boys training, use them.”
“Good enough. I’ll teach you the basics today. In the meantime, watch me.” He untied a bow from the saddle and placed one end on the ground, then used his weight to flex it and slip the string into a slot. She suspected he could do the same just using his massive arms, but he was teaching her how to use her weight since she didn’t have his strength. He unstrung it and handed it to her.
The bow slipped and fell to the ground on her first try. The second didn’t bend it far enough to fit the string into the groove at the top end, and she gave up. She glanced at Sir James but saw no trace of humor or impatience. He nodded for her to try again. She set the lower end firmly on the ground and used the weight of her upper body to bend it as she stood on tiptoes. The string moved into position and took up the tension.
“That’s enough for now. Unstring it and tie it on the back of your saddle with a handful of arrows. If you need to use it, aim a little higher. Arrows tend to land lower than where you think, but even if it goes a little high, it’ll put the fears of six gods into them.”
Hannah hadn’t spoken during the training. She did as he asked and mounted her gentle horse when he climbed on his. He motioned for her to lead again. “Which way?” she asked.
“Keep the morning sun on your back to go west.”
She followed the stream until they came to a shallow place to cross. A game trail took them deeper into the forest, and it climbed higher and higher, always uphill, with very little down. The sun warmed her back. The trees remained fir, cedar, and pine. The undergrowth thinned, with occasional thickets of brambles and briars that she avoided.
More than that, the trees became larger and larger as the day wore on. Instead of trees so big a large man couldn’t place his arms around, some now stood so large two men couldn’t reach around them. By mid-morning, a few of the trees would need ten men holding hands to reach around, and the tops seemed lost in the air, too high above to see.
Not all the trees grew that big, but by noon more did than did not. The forest took on a silence of three parts. First was the sounds of their horses: the snorts, falling hooves, and protest of leather moving against leather. The second was the absence of birds singing, chipmunks squeaking, crickets chirping, and other sounds made by living things in forests filled with trees that have leaves that fall in winter. The third part of the silence was that of two worried people passing through the forest without speaking, each lost in his or her thoughts.
A floating pink dot caught her attention. It looked smaller than the tip of her smallest finger, pale pink, and it moved from her left to her right, a dozen steps in front of the horse, head high. It moved on currents of air, bobbing and drifting like a twig floating in a stream, sometimes faster, other times slower or spinning. Another dot gently floa
ted past. Then another. They rose and fell as they slowly moved, always going in the same direction.
Her eyes noticed a flutter of a leaf on a bush, then the touch of a morning breeze on her cheek. It came from directly ahead. The movement of the leaf confirmed the breeze came from in front of her. But the pink dots oddly moved right to left, in the opposite direction.
“What are those?” she asked.
“What are you talking about.”
“I’m sorry. The pink things.”
He paused before answering, his eyes darting around. “Where?”
She pointed to another approaching from her right, right in front of her.
“Where? In the trees? Pink?”
Her finger followed the bouncing path of the tiny pink dot until it disappeared into the trees on her left. “That thing right there.”
“I’m afraid I can’t see what you’re pointing out. Let me know if you see another.”
Hannah clamped her jaw shut. There were now five of the things in plain sight. Sir James didn’t joke often. It was as if he couldn’t see them. The path came to a Y. She took the right branch, the direction where the pink dots seemed to emerge. She did it without asking him if he could see them, or if it was the right way to go.
The further down the path they went, the more of the pink dots floated past. One came so near that Hannah reached out with a forefinger and touched it. It exploded in a silent pink mist, and she laughed.
“Something funny?” he asked.
“I just popped one.”
“Hold up,” he pulled his horse alongside her. “What did you just pop?”
She waved her hand at the dozens of dots floating in the air in front of them. “Those pink dots.”
“Pink? Dots? I can’t see anything like that, Hannah. Tell me exactly what you’re looking at.”
Hannah described them as well as she could, popping two more in the process and giggling. She watched his eyes as she pointed to another dot, moving her finger closer and closer. “Right there. See it just beyond my finger? Watch when I touch it.”
It popped silently out of existence in a minute, pink, silent explosion. Hannah turned.
“I still didn’t see what you did. Or do.”
“There are floating pink dots all around us. They’re coming from over there.”
He sat taller in his saddle and loosened the knife at his waist. “I cannot always see what a mage does. Lead the way. I think we find where they’re coming from, but be prepared to let me pass you if there’s danger, in fact, let me go first, and you direct me.”
“They’re just pink dots.”
“Pink dots that I cannot see, so there may be a danger. But it makes me think of magic.”
“Oh,” she muttered, suddenly reluctant to follow the trail of pink. But she turned off the faint trail, and the floating pink dots increased in number with every step of the horse. Sir James moved carefully ahead, following the faint trail. In a hundred steps, the numbers of dots grew so much that she found it hard to see far ahead.
“Tell me what’s happening,” he ordered as if she was his squire.
“There are more of them. Lots. If I touch them, they poof away.” She looked at the largest tree she’d seen all morning and realized dots left the tree in all directions. “They are coming from that big tree.”
They moved closer, pausing fifty steps away. Sir James said, holding out his hand, one finger pointed ahead, speaking almost in a whisper, “Can you take my wrist and direct my finger to one?”
“Sure.” She moved his finger to a dot, and nothing happened. It passed right through his hand. She tried again, this time making sure his finger touched it. When nothing happened again, she reached for it, and poof, it was gone.
“Let me guess. My touch did nothing. Yours destroyed another.”
“Yes, that’s what happened.”
He pointed beyond the tree. “I see a path leading up to that tree.”
Once pointed out, the path in the fallen needles became obvious. It approached the tree, but from the other side. They slowly walked the horses on the soft ground carpeted with generations of soft needles. Circling the tree brought them to a stand of smaller trees growing next to the massive one where the pink dots first appeared.
“What do you see?” he whispered.
“More dots floating all around us. They’re thicker here, more of them, I mean. They’re coming from inside that big tree. Are you sure you can’t see them?”
“Look,” Sir James pointed above the smaller trees. An inverted V showed darker on the reddish-gray bark.
He dismounted, his short sword in hand. A wave of his palm told Hannah to remain in her saddle while he went to investigate. She slid to the ground, shaking her head. “I can see them. You can’t. I have to go with you.”
He nodded once, then turned and took the lead. Crouched, he moved quietly and deadly ahead. Pushing through the small opening the path took them to, he pulled to a stop. She peeked around his shoulder.
The inverted V was an opening in the tree. The trunk was hollow and the V the opening. A veil of material hung from high up on one side of the opening and had been pulled across to the other, closing off the opening inside.
Sir James eased ahead, one agonizingly slow step at a time. Hannah followed, looking for anything unusual, but wishing he’d go faster. She saw nothing but more of the pink dots emerging through the material, and the bark of the tree itself. The dots spread out from the center of the tree as if it didn’t exist.
“You might as well come on inside instead of skulking around out there like a pair of thieves in the night,” a female voice called, sounding impatient and annoyed at the same time.
Sir James looked at Hannah in confusion. She returned the look and shrugged. Neither of them had made a sound. They had tied the horses to bushes far enough away that any small sound couldn’t have carried that far.
“We’re not here to harm you,” Sir James called.
“Then why is that sword in your hand?” she called back.
Hannah watched his confusion as he put his sword away. He’d defeated three assassins only the night before, so she didn’t think putting his sword away made him any less dangerous. He reached for the side of the curtain, but before he touched it, the thing fell away to one side.
Inside stood a tall, thin woman who had opened the curtain. The woman’s hair had been dark brown at one time but now hung in limp brown and silver streaks that reached almost to her lower back. Parted in the middle, it fell to either side in long slow curls. She wore a peasant dress without decoration. Her smile was that of a young girl, but the glint in her eyes that of an old woman.
“Come in,” she said, throwing her arms wide to encompass the area where she stood.
Hannah’s eyes left the woman. The inside of the tree held crudely built tables standing side by side in the open middle of the tree. At least ten of them. Most had shelves nailed to the inside of the tree. Every flat surface in the room held bottles, jars, vats, boxes, containers, flasks, and flagons. Some appeared old. Every flat surface seemed to hold something that she valued. A single bowl in front of her sat beside a partially unrolled scroll.
Her eyes were on Sir James. She said, “I don’t recognize you, sir. I believed I knew of every mage in the kingdom.”
“You don’t know me,” he said.
“Then how did you find me?”
“We followed the pink dots,” Hannah said to break up the silence when Sir James didn’t answer.
“I knew it,” she declared, moving a step closer to Sir James and giving him a distasteful look. “Are you in need of my services or a potion?”
“Just information,” he said, casting a glance at Hannah that told her to be quiet. “Who are you?”
She squinted as if her eyesight might be failing. “An odd question, if I may say so. Who am I? I’m the mother of my two sons and my daughter. I was the wife of Jenkins, a farmer who raised goats, sheep, pigs, and most anything
else people eat. I am a widow these last twenty years, a friend to a few and an enemy to others. Does that answer your question?”
“No,” he said, his voice solid as any rock. “You’re toying with me. Your name and occupation.”
“Evelyn. I live alone on my farm, but for a few coins I also sell worthless charms and silly love spells to ignorant young girls.”
“Is that tea?” Hannah asked, pointing to a pot simmering over a small fire.
“Thirsty, are you? How about something to chew on, too? I have some hard bread and even a few sweet crackers you might like.”
“We can pay,” Sir James said, bringing a wider smile to the woman’s lips.
She said, “By all means. Tea costs two small gold coins for each cup and the crackers only a silver coin each.
Sir James’s face hardened.
“No sense of humor? What are you, one of the King’s Knights or something?”
Sir James nodded, drawing an awed expression from Evelyn. He continued, “I am Sir James. You may have heard of me.”
Turning back to her teapot, she found two cups and wiped them clean with her apron. When she poured, she said in a carefully modulated voice, “I did not realize the King’s favorite Knight was going to pay me a visit, or that he is a mage.”
Hannah stuffed her mouth with a sweet cracker. Every time the sorceress spoke, she felt herself wanting to correct her, but Hannah also remembered the warning glance from Sir James.
He said, “Why would you think me a mage?”
“Don’t take me for a fool, mage. I may not be as well-known in the kingdom as you, but that does not mean I am without skill in certain areas. Only a powerful mage could see the motes from a sorceress’ cauldron and follow them to the source. I have this tree protected with probably a hundred spells or more that I cast over the years, and none but the most powerful mage could find it. Peasants walk right past it if they come near at all. I’ve watched dozens of them over the years, and none can see, smell, sense, or know it is here. They see, hear, smell, and sense nothing, not even the tree itself. I am the sixth sorceress to use it, and you are the very first visitors I’ve had.”