by LeRoy Clary
Besides, he’d realized this morning that killing children was not for him. If he continued with the Slave Master, he’d be forced to witness killings, if not take part in them. It turned his stomach.
He walked on the path behind the Slave Master thinking of how to rid himself of the task. A sprained ankle was too obvious. He could pick up a branch and use it as a club to attack the older man, but if anything went wrong, he’d forfeit his life.
Looking at the back of the man he considered that idea. How many had died at the hands of the man he followed? How many died because his King was worried about dragons? How many slaves lived their miserable lives repatriating for the sins of their kings? In a kingdom that condemned slavery, yet it existed in every wealthy household.
Edward came to the realization he would have to take sides. Taking none equated to the same thing. If he took no action nothing changed, as if he agreed with it. As an Earl, what would he do?
If he was not destined to be an Earl, would he prefer to live as a slave or servant in the grand palace, or be a free man and cook meals at the Red Dog?
The primary difference was that he actually liked the people in Nettleton. He couldn’t say the same for those in Princeton.
The Slave Master pointed to footprints where the path dipped, and the ground was soft and springy. “Fresh. Water’s still seeping in. We’re closing in on them.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
They trudged directly at the three peaks, angling just a little to the far-off snow-covered peak in the north. Robin used her staff to support her weight with each step, yet seemed to have picked up speed as they descended the side of the mountain. Camilla glanced at Brix, who brought up the rear and flashed a smile she hoped would seem encouraging.
Robin paused where no trees obscured her view. She leaned on her staff while her eyes roamed the granite cliffs. Her voice lost the harshness and replaced it with a soft wistfulness. “There it is. Just like he said it would be.”
Brix and Camilla looked at the cliffs that rose higher than the tallest trees but said nothing. The way ahead looked impossible to pass.
Robin saw their puzzlement and pointed. “See where that cliff over there ends? Another is right behind it, but even from here it looks like one continuous wall. Actually, it’s two, like a split in the rock wide enough for a hundred men to walk side by side. At the end of that, we’ll find our future.”
“I heard something,” Brix whispered, turning to peer behind.
“We’d better hurry,” Robin said, not louder, but more insistent.
Rushing down the path, Robin waded across a stream too wide to leap, as if a pack of devils chased her. Camilla kept up, but Brix fell behind.
“Stop looking back there and run,” Camilla ordered.
Robin didn’t search for a trail or path. She ran directly into the underbrush, which was thick but not impassable. With arms sweeping aside vines and thicker growth, she made her own way. Camilla saw her look up several times to orient herself against the cliffs as if something was about to happen.
Brix fell further back. Then he caught sight of two men on the hillside behind, and his pace picked up. “They’re back there, but we still have a good lead.”
Robin slowed but continued.
Glancing up, Camilla almost stumbled. The first rock cliff came to a jagged and abrupt end. The second cliff was as Robin predicted, at least, a hundred steps away. Between lay an opening that led south. Like the rock face had split sometime in the past and the two sides pulled away from each other in such a way that it could only be seen when up close.
Camilla followed Robin as she turned to run between the two rock walls, and risked a quick look over her shoulder at Brix. As usual, he was outpacing her for distance and soon he’d pass her. Her thinking turned to the men following them and to one of the first things Robin told her about the staff she carried. She said a man who knows how to use a staff, will defeat any swordsman. The chance might soon come to test that story.
While she and Brix were beginners with staffs, if they had even learned enough to be considered beginners, Robin had twirled her staff over her head and beat a rhythm on the side of her shed with the two ends. Camilla felt her confidence ebb as she realized the shed had not fought back. Still, there were three of them against the two behind. If those men caught up, they might regret it. It only took one blow from her staff to put a man on the ground, and then it would be three to one.
She looked up and saw gray granite walls rising on both sides, tall cliffs higher than the tallest trees. Robin had slowed, and Camilla caught up to her. Brix was on her heels. “How far back are they?”
“I don’t think they’re gaining. We might even be pulling ahead, but how long can we run?”
Robin pulled to a stop and gasped, “Not far to go. We won’t fight them here.” She gasped for air. “Just a little further.”
The woman stood up and ran, a shuffling, staggering run that was only slightly faster than walking. The other two stayed with her, watching behind, but never seeing their pursuers.
They followed all the way from Nettleton. They’re not quitting now. Camilla stepped aside to let Brix pass while she gripped her staff tighter. They’d face her first. If nothing else she could delay them. Besides, they were after her, not Brix or Robin. She let the others put a little distance between them, and called, “I’m right behind you.”
After another look behind, she turned to set her pace on Brix, but he had stopped. Robin stood a few steps ahead of him. Both stood completely still. The tangle of brush and shrubs had ended abruptly. Ahead spread a green meadow, the grass grazed low from a herd of sheep who looked on as if they were interested in the three new arrivals.
Between the sheep and Camilla were five people. Four stood behind one, an older man who did not look happy. He wore buckskins and a green hat that blended into the green of the trees. His hair hung to his shoulders, and his beard flared in a hundred directions. He also held a staff held crossways to his body as if to prevent them from passing. He said, in a gruff tone, “Why are you here?”
Robin panted and huffed as she approached. “I didn’t think we’d make it.”
Four of the men held bows fitted with arrows. While none pointed at the three of them, the intent was clear. All were dressed similar to the older man, and family resemblance was clear.
Robin said, her voice clearer as she caught her breath. “I’m Robin. These are my friends. We need help.”
“How did you know about the way into our valley?” the man demanded.
“Pylori and I spent a year together when I was young.”
“Pylori?” The man seemed confused.
“My lover. My man with the beautiful dragon on his back.”
All five responded by their expressions changing and the stiffening of their bodies, but none spoke. All eyes went to the leader, who said, “Describe what you saw.”
Robin stood taller, her chin lifted in defiance as if ready to defend her memories. “It was black. The image of the wings went all the way around his chest until they almost touched, here.” She placed a finger on her breast. She stood tall as if challenging any to deny her statement.
The man who was the leader took a step closer and peered into her eyes. “You are Robin, his friend from long ago?”
“Yes.”
“Pylori spoke well of you. He died in a battle with the King’s men many years ago.”
“I know. You sent one of your people to tell me.”
A tear tracked down his face. He wiped it away as if it irritated him. “Who are those with you?”
Robin looked at Brix. “A spinner’s son who helped us escape the King. He is in danger because of me.”
“Danger from the two men following you.”
“The King’s Slave Master and Weapons Master.”
The old man seemed confused. “The King has appointed a young master?”
Robin glanced at Brix and Camilla, also confused. “No. Something is not right.”
“Edward,” Robin said. “What’s he doing there?”
“Son of the Earl? I’ve heard he’s a pompous ass.” He motioned for her to sit on the grass, and as an afterthought motioned for Brix and Camilla to sit, also.
Robin hesitated. “They’re right behind us. You need to protect yourselves.”
“I know about them. My sentry spotted them, and you, of course, late this morning. When he decided you were headed here, he ran ahead and warned us.”
“I didn’t see any evidence of his passing through that gap. He must be very good at moving like a ghost.” Robin sat in the grass and faced him.
The old man laughed. “He may have traveled a slightly different way. There are now three of my people behind the two chasing you, in what you called the ‘gap’ and three more are waiting ahead of them, just out of sight.”
“You will capture them?”
“Unless they fight, yes. We will determine what trouble you have brought down on us and what we need to do about it. Now, again I ask you why you have come here to this valley. Surely Pylori told you this place is forbidden to all but the clan.”
She smiled, and tilted her head, playing with him before answering. Instead of speaking to him, she turned and looked at Camilla, still standing behind her. “Turn around, girl.”
Camilla hesitated, but turned, while looking over her shoulder.
Robin smiled as she gazed at the five men facing her. “Lift your shirt, please.”
Camilla heard but didn’t move.
“Your shirt. It’s all right, Camilla. They can see your secret.”
Camilla realized Robin had all but told her deepest secret to five strangers. It made little difference, now. They all knew there was something to hide under there. She slowly pulled the bottom higher. And higher.
She had looked away, but heard the gasps from the men. She looked back as the old man was on his feet again, a stricken expression on his face.
“Who? How?” he stuttered.
Robin said, “The King’s raid near Nettleton so many years ago. She’s the youngest and somehow escaped. She knows nothing. Not even of you. I thought it best to bring her here.”
In two strides the man was at Camilla’s side. He slowly turned and lifted his own shirt. A green dragon looked at Camilla. She glanced at the smile on Robin and then she saw each of the other four men turn and lift their shirts. All had dragons, all different, and all the same.
Robin said, “I brought Camilla home.”
The leader took Camilla by her shoulders. “My name is Myron. I knew your parents well. Your mother was my wife’s sister. That makes you almost my daughter.”
“I am your almost-brother.” another man declared to the laughter of the others.
“You can tell me about my family? I mean the ones who died?”
“Those are stories for later tonight and tomorrow. We have another problem to solve now, and I see the time has come.” The old man’s eyes looked past Camilla.
She turned. Two more men and three young women, all dressed in buckskins and looking much like the others, escorted two others, hands tied behind their backs. Myron said, “That is the King’s Sword Master. Camilla, do you know who he is?”
“I have never seen him.”
Myron motioned for the Slave Master to move closer. When he didn’t obey instantly, one of the younger men behind shoved him so violently he stumbled and almost fell at Myron’s feet. Myron looked at him before speaking so softly everyone had to listen carefully. “Camilla, I’ve waited for half a lifetime to meet this one.”
The Slave Master spat at Myron.
The old man didn’t wipe it off his face. “How many people exist their entire miserable lives in chains because of you? How many innocents have died at your hands?”
“Release me or you’ll all die. I am the hand of King Ember.”
“Not today, we won’t all die, but you will,” Myron said, his voice still soft, but filled with hatred.
Brix, who had remained quiet for the entire time, spoke up. “Hey, you can’t just kill him!”
All eyes turned to Brix. More than one hand went to a knife or gripped a staff tighter. Brix stood his ground, and Camilla stepped to his side.
Myron nodded at her action, approving. “You stand with your friend, and I admire that, but I tell you that this time, you are wrong. This Slave Master is the hand of death and torture of the King. The attack on your family came in two waves. Mounted soldiers, led by the Weapons Master, charged in first, and then infantry.”
Camilla’s knees went weak.
Myron continued, “They hounded your family and chased them for years until they cornered them near Nettleton. Your people were coming here for safety. This man led his troops to the camp to slay every living thing but arrived too late. He searched for any information about us, trying to locate this valley. We arrived at the scene a day after.”
The Slave Master said, “That’s it. The dragons! You made them attack and burn everything so I couldn’t learn about you. I always wondered why they attacked the camp.”
“My wish was to burn you with the wagons and bodies you laid out in a row to inventory like counting so many coins in your purse. We have waited for years for you to bring justice.”
“Speaking of coins in my purse, how many to buy my freedom?”
Camilla sensed the sneer and disdain in his voice. Her anger grew, and her hands shifted slightly on the staff. Before any could prevent her, she started a turn that would bring the staff into position. He wouldn’t pay his way out of this.
Edward moved first. Despite his tied hands, he spun and kicked the Slave Master, his foot landing high on the left thigh. The Slave Master fell back one step and then went to the ground. Edward kicked again, despite several hands already were pulling him back. His second kick took the Slave Master in the ribs. Edward went to the ground, three people on top of him.
The staff in Camilla’s hand moved as if of its own accord. The end that had been resting on the ground shot out and struck the Slave Master on the side of his head with a sickening sound. She let the momentum of the staff swing it high until it was above her head. Both her hands held it, ready to drive it down.
Nobody moved to prevent her from the fatal blow.
She lowered the staff, confused. She had expected them to stop her, and she was prepared to fight back. Their lack of reaction stilled her. She had been prepared to bring the staff down in a death-blow. At least, she told herself she was.
“It’s your life to take,” Myron said, leaning on his staff and watching her closely.
She shook her head.
Myron’s staff shot out faster than she could see and in a single blow crushed the Slave Master’s skull almost as easily as he might tap his staff on a tree to determine if it was hollow. “Then it is mine.”
The shock of the sudden action stilled everyone even more. Brix finally turned away, stumbled into nearby bushes and puked. Camilla fell to her knees, not knowing what to say or do. Everything was happening so fast.
Myron stepped forward to face Edward.
Robin leaped between them. “Stop. This is a good man.”
“Good? He will be Earl one day soon, and serve the King. How is that good?” Myron roared.
Camilla stood and stepped beside Robin, her foot nearly touching the dead Slave Master. She shook her head.
Robin said, “King Ember is old. The young Earl will advise the new King. Edward is a friend of the king-in-waiting, I’ve heard. It would be good to have a friend with the ear of the new king.”
“Why would this man be our friend? Because we allow him to live? More likely he’ll return to the palace and ask his friend to send troops to wipe us out.” Myron said, his voice lower, but just as intense.
Robin said, “I say he is valuable to you and your people, or, at least, he is no worse than his replacement would be.”
>
Edward, who had been pinned to the ground by three men, rolled to his knees and stood. Nobody attempted to prevent him. He stepped between Robin and Camilla, shouldering his way through. “This is not your fight,” he said to them.
“Will you offer to buy your life, too?” Myron asked.
Edward shook his head. “No. But they’re right, I’ll be a better friend than a corpse. I have never done any wrong to you or your people, but do as you must.” He fell to his knees and lowered his eyes to the ground, hands still tied behind.
Myron spun and stalked away. After several steps, he called without turning his head, “Bring them all.”
Brix moved to Robin’s side, “What now?”
Camilla asked, “These are my people?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Brix, Camilla, and Robin walked together. Down the hillside, a small group of thatched-roof stone huts appeared in the small valley. It sat beside a fast flowing stream too wide to leap. The huts were simple, made of flat rocks that broke easily from the closest cliff. All flat land was cultivated, and crops abounded. Cattle, sheep, goats, dogs, chickens, geese, and others roamed freely.
People waited for them. Word must have been sent to them. Women, children, and more men stood and watched them approach. Camilla felt the eyes on her as much as she felt a red dragon flying above her. The group drifted closer to the stream.
Camilla saw a ring of stumps, crude chairs, and logs placed in a half-circle, a rock shelf; a place for the speaker to stand. She did a quick count. Thirty adults, twelve children and a few babies.
A boy of about seven ran to the path in front of them and paused long enough to pull his leather shirt over his head to expose his back. A red dragon seemed to writhe. Not as pretty or fierce as mine. Camilla quelled the urge to show hers, but the attraction to someone that not only had a dragon on his back but a red one was unmistakable.
Myron strode directly to the ridge of rock and waited. When he judged all were present and seated, he spoke. “The Slave Master is dead.”
A few smiled, but no cheers broke the afternoon warmth.