by Gaelen Foley
“Sorry, mistress, you’ll have to wait!”
“I can’t wait! I’m a healer. There’s an outbreak of fever down in Butterdale! I’m on my way to help them. I just stopped into town to buy some medicine. Now, let me go to them or people are going to die!”
He eyed her simple clothes and spotted the necklace identifying her as a Daughter of the Rose and gave in. “Oh, very well. Hurry up!” He waved her through impatiently. Distracted by all the excitement of everyone looking for Thaydor, the sentry did not notice the very fine white warhorse trotting along behind the humble carriage.
Unhappy about lying again—though once more, she’d had no choice—Wrynne held her breath as she drove over the bridge, glancing back to ensure Avalanche made it through, as well. To her relief, the towering gates closed inches behind the horse’s swishing ivory tail.
Turning off the bridge and back onto the road, she picked up the pace, urging Polly into a trot. She looked over her shoulder in distress, wondering how Thaydor was ever going to get out of there, past that heartless assassin.
Whether or not her dream about Reynulf was true, it was no mystery why he would’ve been willing to carry out this deceitful warrant. Of course, he was only following orders, but every knight had ambition, and with Thaydor out of the way, Reynulf would finally be the top knight in the kingdom. She would bet he’d already been promised the role of royal champion.
Eyes narrowed, she shook her head angrily and finally slowed the carriage, pulling over to the side of the road about a half-mile south of the town.
Now what do I do?
It was hard to think clearly in her rattled state. Even if he had already escaped, which she doubted, he would still have to find her and the wagon.
Unless I go find him.
She’d brought her staff. Using the hasten spell three times in a row could have her back inside the town walls.
I can get him out of there.
It was not the most appetizing prospect, and he might not like seeing her there again. Eadric had come after him on the battlefield, after all, which was how he had ended up in pieces. However, she knew it would work.
She briskly decided this was the best plan, perhaps the only plan at this point. Scanning the woods alongside the road, she picked an opening between the trees wide enough to fit the wagon.
She jumped down off the driver’s seat and took hold of Polly’s bridle, murmuring assurances to the bay mare as she led her on foot into the forest. Avalanche followed with the cart. Once she had walked the horses several yards into the woods, she tied Polly to a tree. She stilled her mind as best she could under the circumstances and cast a sanctuary spell to hide them.
Making sure the horses were content, she got her staff off the back of the wagon and then walked out to the road. From this vantage point, the horses and wagon were invisible. The only evidence left behind were the wagon tracks where she had left the road. She kicked dust over the telltale tracks, then memorized the location, marking the spot in her mind by the half-fallen pine tree that appeared to have been hit by lightning long ago.
Hold on, Thaydor. Don’t get yourself killed again, my friend. I’m on my way. With that, Wrynne closed her eyes, gripped her jewel-headed staff, banged it lightly on the ground, and whispered, “Hasten.”
Landing about a thousand feet up the empty road, she took a breath to steady the slight vertigo, then she did it again. The third jump would put her inside the walls of Toad Hollow. She thought for a moment about where to land, then bumped her staff on the ground once more and whispered the command.
Poof!
She was dizzy when she popped back into materiality in an alley across from the market. With a queasy groan, she clutched her stomach.
Ugh, I really need to learn a proper travel spell.
Hasten was really just intended for very short distances—emergency escapes and the like. Even so, her little spell had got her there faster than even Avalanche could have carried her, and fortunately, no one had seen her arrive.
Trying to regain her balance, she strode out of the alley and looked around amid the still-seething chaos.
“Thaydor?” she shouted, searching the scene before her. She checked the market, striding past the aisles to see if he was in there somewhere, but no. She peered into the surrounding streets, as well, then suddenly spotted him running across the rooftops, sword in hand.
A little taken aback, she shook her head to herself. So that’s how he means to get over the wall. Madman.
Thankfully, the blade of Hallowsmite was not yet bloody, but still bright and clean from what she could see.
She shifted her gaze down to the ground where the soldiers chased after him, swarming the adjoined buildings atop which the Golden Knight dashed, sure-footed as a cat. How he balanced atop the peaked roof ridges, she had no idea.
But his escape plan wasn’t going to work.
From where she stood, she could see what he could not yet—a large gap lay between the houses and the top of the wall. It was too wide to jump. Even for him.
The soldiers were yelling at him to come down and at one another, reporting which way he was going. Reynulf looked on in amusement, leaning by a post out of the way and casually drinking a tankard of ale, as though he merely meant to let the soldiers wear their quarry out before he stepped in to take Thaydor into custody.
What infuriating arrogance!
Wrynne glared at Reynulf, then scowled to see that his men had shackles at the ready. Closing in on Thaydor from both sides on the ground, they had even brought out a man-catcher on a long wooden pole.
How dare they?
The hero of the kingdom, and they’d clap that contraption around his neck as though he were a rabid dog? Wrynne thumped her staff angrily on the cobblestones and magically whooshed up onto the roof a few yards ahead of him.
Thaydor, running straight at her, nearly fell off it in his astonishment. “Wrynne?”
“Hullo, dear. Having fun?” she inquired as she used her staff to steady herself atop the narrow roof ridge.
“What are you doing here?” he cried, waving his arms to catch his balance.
“Rescuing you, Sir Knight. Take my hand.” Fighting the dizziness that came with the spell—and probably with the simple fact of standing on a rooftop—she stretched out her hand, waiting for him to reach her. Below, the soldiers fell into ever-greater chaos at this new arrival.
“A sorceress!” someone shrieked. The whole town gawked at her, some of the people falling back in fear.
“Look, sir! He’s got a witch helping him!”
She had got the red knight’s full attention. “Who is that?” Reynulf demanded.
One of the market vendors squinted. “I recognize that woman! It’s the Maid of the Mount! She’s got Ilian magic!”
Reynulf snorted. “Kill her,” he ordered. “He’s the only one we need alive.”
“Archerrrrs!” the captain bellowed, waving his arm to signal his men.
“Thaydor!” Wrynne cried, only to lose her balance when she jerked too fast to look at the archers taking aim at her.
“Wrynne!” Thaydor caught her hand as she teetered wildly, planting his foot atop a dormer to save them both. He yanked her to his chest, then turned to the soldiers, his sword raised in a frantic gesture of surrender. “Don’t shoot! Hold your fire! Let her go! I’m coming down!”
“Oh, no, you’re not!” she muttered, clinging to him.
“What are you do—” His words broke off and he cursed as they both started falling in earnest, their arms wrapped around each other.
“Hasten!” Wrynne clunked her staff awkwardly on the roof tiles as they plunged earthward.
Whoosh!
In the twinkling of an eye, they landed on their rear ends in the middle of the dusty road well outside the town.
Thaydor sat up immediately, shaking his head to clear it. He looked at her, saw she was safe, then glanced over his shoulder at the distant town walls.
He let out a slight
ly dazed laugh. “Well, that’s new.”
“Oh, I’m a girl of many hidden talents. Come on, we’re not there yet.” She grasped hold of his arm again. “Hasten.”
Chapter 7
Bonfire
The rain drummed on the forest trees and dripped off the mouth of the secluded cave where they had taken shelter for the night. Having laid out the two bedrolls across from each other, Wrynne was working on building a fire from the dry kindling that they’d had the foresight to stop and collect when they’d seen the dark clouds gathering.
Thaydor had gone to cover the wagon with an oilskin stored among his provisions. Since the cave had plenty of room, they had brought the horses in, as well. Avalanche and Polly were contentedly slurping their water and munching their grain. To be sure, the two had earned the extra handful of oats.
Between Wrynne’s hasten spell and the trusty horses’ willingness to pull the cart at a gallop for as long as Thaydor had dared push them, they had managed to outrun Reynulf and his men.
Thaydor had bitterly agreed that, considering Wrynne and he were now both fugitives, there was no point in talking to the king. Instead, they were heading to the Bastion to consult the oracle and hopefully receive some guidance and at least temporary sanctuary.
Wrynne was worried about the paladin. Ever since she had handed him the Wanted poster, he’d had a lost, stunned look in his blue eyes. He seemed to be in shock. So was she, in truth. She could not believe they were now both outlaws.
The poor man had read that dreadful piece of paper so many times he must have memorized it by now, as if it might start making sense to him if only he studied it hard enough. He had not looked this disturbed even on the night he had nearly died.
She blew on the spark she’d created to get the campfire started. The mundane normality of the task helped to calm her.
“They’re blaming me?” he had uttered when she had first showed it to him. “Unbelievable! I let the Urmugoths in? I killed the sentries? How can they possibly justify such a ridiculous claim? Whyever would I do such a thing? So that I could win my way back into the king’s good graces? As if I care for his opinion! Sweet Ilios, is that what people actually think of me? That I’m some bootlicking toady?”
“No, of course not, Thaydor,” she had reassured him, sitting down beside him in the cave. “Trust me, anyone who knows you or even knows of you will realize at once you are not capable of this. Such a cruel, deceitful scheme would never even occur to you, let alone would you ever carry it out. All Veraidel know this is a lie, then everyone will realize the king’s lost his mind.”
“I hope that’s all it is… Madness. I-I don’t understand.” He had shaken his head, genuinely at a loss. “How can they spread these lies about me? I’ve done nothing wrong. They want to destroy me just because I spoke out?”
Wrynne had only been able to shrug, tears springing into her eyes for him. “I’m so sorry.”
“No, it’s not for myself that I’m angry,” he’d answered absently, staring at the cave wall in thought. “It’s because of what it means.”
“What does it mean?”
He’d been quiet for a long moment before he’d finally said, “It means that the kingdom has gone quietly into tyranny while no one was paying attention. That’s what it means.”
His words and his grim, quiet tone had made her blood run cold.
“I didn’t want to believe it was possible…or acknowledge what that I sensed in the palace. Something off… But the truth was there, gnawing at me, despite my insistence to myself that Baynard could be trusted. A cold feeling in my gut. Yes, I’m afraid I’ve felt this coming for a long time now.”
“What are you saying?”
“The kingdom is in danger. Everybody’s grown so complacent. They’re asleep.” He had looked at her, his eyes ablaze. “If the rule of law means nothing… If we’re no longer free to speak our minds… If false accusations can be issued from the highest seat in the realm and cast far and wide, to be acted on with the full force of the law… If the Crown itself can attack a loyal citizen without cause… Then we have all become slaves, Wrynne. It’s just that nobody else has noticed yet…because they came after me first.
“But of course they did,” he had murmured, more to himself than to her. “They knew I’d never allow it. So that’s where all of this was going. Now it all makes sense. Sanctus solis, you were right, Wrynne.” He’d looked at her grimly. “They were trying to kill me. But it’s worse than even you thought.”
“How?” she had whispered.
“This is not just some vain retaliation for the king’s wounded pride, because I rebuked him for this public dalliance with his mistress. No. The Baynard I know wouldn’t bother. If you ask me, this comes straight from Lord Eudo, and I’d bet you anything he’s setting up a coup. Get rid of me, get rid of the king. Damn it, how could I be so stupid not to see it until now?” he had suddenly exploded. He let out a curse and walked out of the cave. “Excuse me.”
“What are we going to do?” she’d shouted after him.
He had paused, his back still to her, fists clenched by his sides.
“Fight it!” he had growled. Then he had strode out, mumbling something about going out to cover the wagon with the oilskin so their things didn’t get wet.
For a quarter hour or so, he stayed outside, keeping to himself. When he returned presently, his blond hair looked a shade darker from the rain, but the same fury remained in his eyes. He had a bow and a quiver of arrows slung over his shoulder. “I’m not hungry, but I’ll go get you something to eat if you—”
“No need! Stay.” She swept to her feet. “I brought food. It’s in the wagon. I’ll go get it.”
He furrowed his brow. “Did you buy something in the town before we fled?”
She paused. “No, I brought it with me from my bower.” She pulled on her cloak and lifted the hood. “Come. Maybe I have something that can tempt you.”
“I daresay,” he answered under his breath, and gave her a swift glance that made her blush.
She looked away, abashed. “You really ought to eat. You’ll need your strength,” she warned, then hurried out into the rain.
“Wrynne,” he said softly after she brushed by him at the cave’s mouth.
“Yes?” She turned and found him gazing at her with a look of anguished intensity on his handsome face.
He shook his head. “I’m so sorry I brought all this upon you. You saved my life and I’ve ruined yours.”
“Ah, don’t be daft.” With a fond, chiding smile, she took a step back in his direction. “You haven’t ruined anything.”
“I should’ve never let you come with me to town. This is all my fault.”
“Stop it. You’ve got enough enemies against you out there without also pummeling yourself, especially not for my sake. Now, you listen to me, Paladin. Everything is going to be all right,” she promised, the rain misting her face. “You are Sir Thaydor Clarenbeld, the Golden Knight, and you will fix this. I have total faith in you. As for me, well,” she admitted, “I sort of knew what I was getting into when I climbed in the wagon with you this morning. Call it woman’s intuition.”
“You told me they were after me,” he agreed, hands in pockets. “If only I’d have listened.”
She smiled at him. “That’s why I tagged along. In case you got into a scrape. Oh, come, I didn’t really need any supplies from the market,” she finally confessed. “I just wanted to stay with you, make sure you’d be all right. That’s why I brought all this. Look!” she said brightly.
Going over to the wagon, she pulled up the edge of the oilskin and pointed at her cluster of baggage tucked away behind the horses’ unused saddles and some large sacks of Thaydor’s various supplies. She beckoned him over. “Why don’t you put those muscles to work helping me carry some of these things into the cave? I’ll make you something to eat, and perhaps we can restore your cheery nature,” she teased.
He furrowed his brow and left th
e cave’s mouth, striding out into the rain with her. Joining her at the back of the wagon, he frowned at the tidy heap of her baggage, once she had heaved aside Polly’s saddle and Avalanche’s extra blanket.
“What is all this?”
“The crate’s full of food.” She shrugged. “It was extra. I didn’t want it to go to waste. The satchel’s got my healing supplies, clothes and things.”
“And this leather case?”
“My armor?” she said, then bit her lip and glanced up at him.
He paused before turning his head and giving her a hard look. “So you lied to me.”
“I only wanted to help…”
He just looked at her. He didn’t have to say it. Familiar words. She had acted on the same impulse that had got Eadric killed. More importantly, she had ignored his express wishes.
His blue eyes turned steely. He shook his head, picked up the crate of food, and turned away. “Don’t ever lie to me again,” he warned in a low tone, then headed back to the cave.
Wrynne’s heart pounded. Flustered by his disapproval, she couldn’t leave it at that. “Thaydor!” she protested. “Come, I didn’t really lie.”
“That’s exactly what you did,” he replied as he marched ahead of her toward the cave.
“What choice did you leave me?” she exclaimed, feeling defensive and embarrassed as she hurried after him through the steady rain.
Ahead of her, he walked into the cave and put the crate down near the fire. Carrying her satchel, Wrynne frowned as she approached. She had no desire to stay out in the sopping wet forest. It was getting dark. But on the other hand, she was not overly eager to go in there and face him, either.
He was not having a good day as it was, and she was the only person on hand at whom he could vent his understandable anger at the world. Besides, she somewhat deserved it, she conceded with a scowl.
But considering that she had saved his neck, stubbornly, she had no interest in backing down. “I asked you yesterday if I could come with you,” she reminded him tersely when she joined him in the cave.
“And I said no,” he countered, leaning down to warm his hands by the fire.