by Kim Dragoner
“I’m sorry,” he replied. “I’m just concerned…”
“No need,” she interrupted. “I am thankful for your concern, but, please believe me. I am fine.”
John fought to refrain from voicing his concern as they continued along the trail. He still wondered if she was truly okay or if she was truly injured gravely and just trying to be strong. No doubt, her stubbornness was playing a role in that. Through the mix of feelings that were assaulting him, John remembered their earlier conversation and began to chuckle.
“What?” she asked, slowing the pace and allowing him to draw up next to her.
“Some seer you are,” he grinned. “You didn’t see that tumble coming or you might have avoided it.”
“Who said that I wanted to avoid it?”
“But you might have been killed!”
“Dear John,” she laughed. “Don’t you recall that I said that it would be a happy day for the both of us?”
John was offered no opportunity to reply as Alpina touched her heels to Blackbird and picked up the pace, riding ahead of him on the trail as it narrowed to traverse a steep slope. Unsure of what she meant, John hoped to move up alongside her and question her some more, but the opportunity never presented itself again. He settled in behind her and allowed his thoughts to return to that moment beside the boulder.
“I know the cause of that smile,” Thomas said, grinning at him as they sat beside the fire later that evening.
“I know nothing about what you are insinuating,” John lied. Though Thomas was like a brother to him, he had no intention of sharing that pleasant moment with anyone, especially not to have it cheapened by the bawdy discourse that he’d heard so many knights engage in.
“Fine,” Thomas shrugged. “I have noticed that she dropped the sir whenever she addresses you, though. That must be significant.”
“Status and rank have fallen away from all of us at this point,” John replied.
“And yet, she still refers to me as Sir Thomas,” he chuckled.
John ignored the comment. He tried to push the scene out of his head. It had made his mind cloudy all afternoon and that had worried him. As sweet as that moment had been, they were still being pursued by Dunmor and his brothers. They might already have caught up to them and were waiting to attack them as they fell asleep.
“I think we should take turns standing watch this evening,” John began. “As much as I enjoyed the peaceful sleep of the previous night, we might never awaken again if the same spell were cast upon us tonight.”
“Would they attempt an attack in the darkness?” Thomas asked.
“The same as they would in the mist,” John replied. “Alpina told me that they have trained, since birth, to make use of heightened their senses and can navigate and fight without being able to see.”
“That’s impossible,” Thomas replied.
“That’s what I said, but she assured me that they are quite adept at the practice; some of them even close their eyes when they’re in the mist. They move and attack by use of hearing and their other senses.”
“Then there is no hope for us at all,” Thomas sighed. “We can’t possibly contend with that. In a stand-up fight, in broad daylight, we would slay the five of them to the man, even without Merlin’s magic.”
“Alpina said that there are nine of them,” John responded.
“Even then, in daylight, with Merlin’s help, we would make short work of them.” Thomas had always been confident in their skills and also recognized that the two squires were nearly as good at swordplay as their two masters. They had, after all, been sparring partners as each of them trained.
“But they will attack using the mist or darkness,” John replied. “We’ll never see them in a fair…” As he was speaking, an idea came to him suddenly. “I’ve got it!”
“Got what?”
“I know how we can draw them into a fair fight,” John beamed.
“Would you like to share this revelation of yours?”
“How long do you think that that heavy fog sets in before it rises again?”
“It’s hard to tell,” Thomas said. “It’s not long, but it is certainly long enough for them to slay us all.”
“What if we aren’t where they are attacking?”
“If I didn’t know any better,” Thomas responded, “I’d think that it was you that had taken a tumble from your horse earlier today.”
“Pay attention, Thomas, I’m serious,” John snapped.
“Then explain what you mean.”
“If they navigate according to the sounds they hear, then they will be listening for the sound of our horses passing through the mist and, no doubt, they’ll be listening to Alpina singing as she leads us, right?”
“Yes.” Thomas frowned.
“Suppose that the moment we entered the mist, the four of us slipped from our horses and Alpina and Merlin continued forward, drawing them toward that sound and then, as the fog lifts, we can turn their attack against them.”
Thomas’ eyes lit up as he understood. “That just might work.”
“I’ll say it would,” John chuckled. “Then, we’ll have the opportunity to fight them in a fair fight, just as you said.”
Thomas was silent for a moment, running the plan through his head once more. Then he wrinkled his brow and posed another question. “What happens if they attack tonight?”
“I wouldn’t worry over that,” Merlin’s voice interrupted. He had, no doubt, been nearby and listening to them without their knowing of it.
“What do you mean?” John asked.
“You can sleep peacefully tonight,” Merlin grinned. “I’ve set up some surprises for our guests, should they happen to want to spoil our sweet dreams.”
“I can’t even imagine,” John sighed.
“Let’s just say, though they might be awake, if they approach us in the night, they’ll encounter all sorts of nightmares,” Merlin replied. “And, I might add, I do like your plan for drawing them out tomorrow. I can even be of some assistance in helping to carry out that plan.”
“Hatch a plan and then add a wizard,” Thomas laughed. “It makes us unstoppable.”
Chapter Fifteen
The slopes of Ben Macdhui—as Alpina called the mountain that stood glaring over them as they rode out of their camp the following morning—were already beginning to become obscured by a thick mist as it rolled down from the snowy peak and tumbled in a slow, steady advance toward the valley below. It appeared that, though the stern expression of the mountain did not favor them, it did wish to aid in carrying out the plan that John had devised.
Dressed in full armor and with the two squires in chain mail, they passed along the trail at the same pace they’d kept the previous days. They wanted to appear as though there was little change in their mode of travel and that no plan to draw the brothers into a fight had been hatched.
There had been sounds of terror in the night, just as Merlin had promised. His Circle of Nightmares, as he called it, had done the trick. The barrier might have kept them all awake as they listened to their stalkers fleeing in fear, but Merlin had once again cast a spell of sleep on them and they had awakened refreshed and ready, with nervous anticipation, to face the day and the challenge that lay ahead of them.
Alpina seemed a bit more subdued than normal and that worried John. Would some tragedy, of which she alone was aware, strike them? He hoped for an opportunity to ask her, but that opportunity had not come, mostly because she seemed to have been avoiding him throughout the morning.
When John had laid out his plan for everyone to hear the night before, he hadn’t noticed that Alpina had become very silent. It was only after seeing her try to avoid him the following morning that he recalled how she had behaved the night before. Initially, he wondered if the kiss had been too bold and if she had begun to regret the moment that they’d shared; however, as he examined her actions more closely, he knew that it had more to do with something connected with the execution o
f their plan. There was no way for any of them to know who would be involved or what would happen. Perhaps it was best to not know too much or they might all lose their nerve. Maybe that was the reason that she was avoiding him.
As they followed the trail further up the valley, the fog loomed closer and John felt a lump build in his throat and the dry taste that he got in his mouth prior to battle. Before the fog engulfed them and all about them began to disappear, his heart began to pound in a loud, steady rhythm. Alpina’s singing was to be their signal to start and John waited for the sweet sound of her voice; a sweet sound that might be the last earthly sound he ever heard.
The first word of the tune had barely passed from her lips when Merlin began the brief incantation that would cast the spell upon Thomas, John and the two squires. Because their clanking armor would give them away, Merlin had come up with the idea of casting a spell that would make their armor completely silent for a short period of time, giving them enough time to move away from the horses and then prepare for their attack.
“Maiden’s locks and cobra’s venom,” Merlin began. “Brave knights’ armor soft as linen.”
The instant the spell was cast, the four of them slipped without a sound from the backs of their horses and crouched for a moment on the trail. As the sound of Alpina’s voice and the plodding hooves of the horses grew more faint, the four of them began to move silently along behind, allowing enough distance that they didn’t come upon their enemy too soon, but not so much as to lose their way in the fog.
John was certain that though his armor was silent, for the moment, his heavy breathing and thundering heart would give them away. He drew his sword and crept forward, waiting for the mist to clear and hoping that he hadn’t committed a grave error that would bring harm to Alpina and leave them without horses or supplies.
Though the distant sound of Alpina’s voice was still clear, silence was wrapped around them as they moved forward. John was certain that their stalkers had not taken the bait and his plan had been for not, until suddenly, a terrifying din of screeching pierced through the fog up ahead of them.
The four of them froze in place in the space of several heartbeats, feeling the terror that the Roman Centurions must have felt whenever they fell under the attack of the ancestors of Dunmor and his kind. As soon as it began, the screeching ceased and only a confused clamoring could be heard. John urged the others ahead. “Light or not, we must press the attack.”
Running toward the sound of the noise before them, John not only felt the fog beginning to clear around them, but he heard the sound of his armor begin to clank as it hardened once more. It had no sooner become its proper form when John caught sight of the first of their stalkers. Raising his sword, he charged forward, slicing easily into the flesh of his adversary just as the other turned and raised his long, thick sword for a strike.
As the first of Dunmor’s brothers fell by John’s hand, the mist had thinned to little more than a soft veil and Dunmor and his brothers turned back to face the oncoming attack. The sound of clanging metal, grunts of straining and cries of pain or mortal wounding overtook what had been a silent morning. John, as he dispatched another of the brothers, turned just in time to see Dunmor strike heavily with his sword upon Chatburn. The chainmail shirt was little protection against the massive claymore and Chatburn went down. Instantly, John closed on Dunmor.
For several, exhausting moments, John circled, thrust and parried with the elder of the brothers. Dunmor’s heavy blows taxed him to the limit of his skill and tested the temper of his armor on numerous occasions and John was certain that he was overmatched by the powerful man and his heavy sword. Just as he was certain that he could go no longer continue and would soon meet his end, Thomas and then Dufton suddenly appeared, surrounding Dunmor with their blades at the ready.
Turning in circles, Dunmor snarled at each of them in turn as they held their swords at the ready and waited for him to make his first move. All but the sound of the groans of the wounded had stopped and Dunmor was still weighing his options when John spoke.
“If you will yield,” John offered, “you will live to see another day.”
“Why should I yield to the likes of you?” Dunmor snapped.
“You’ve brothers to tend to from the sound of it,” Thomas joined in.
“They’ll be on their feet and joining me in a moment,” Dunmor grinned. “They’re like these stones.”
“Only if stones bleed,” John retorted. “Yield and tend to the needs of your brothers, but first, you must help us.”
“What reason do I have for helping you?”
“Do it not and the lot of you will be erased from the earth,” John threatened.
“What do you want?”
“You said that you had knowledge of my father.”
Dunmor’s grin broadened and he lowered his sword and started laughing.
“I see no humor in your situation, Dunmor,” Thomas cut in.
“Oh, there’s plenty of humor to be found in it. More dangerous by tenfold is a quest to the cavern of Nimueh. I’ll have all that you’ve brought with you once she’s through with you.”
“Then you’ll yield?” John asked.
“Gladly,” Dunmor smirked. “I’ve served as the devil’s usher to more than one man before.”
Chapter Sixteen
Disarmed and eagerly anticipating the future fate of John and his companions, Dunmor began to tend to his wounded brothers. Three of the nine had already passed from the land of the living and two of the remaining six would likely not see another sunrise. The other three were disarmed and tended to by all.
As the others went to the aid of their fallen foes, John kneeled beside Chatburn who had a long, deep gash in his flesh, which was opened up nearly as wide as the chainmail and was well beyond what the most advanced healer might do for him. John felt his own throat begin to swell as he fought back the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes.
“Chatburn,” John whispered. “Not you. Please, gracious Providence, not my faithful squire.”
“Sir John,” Chatburn gasped. “It has been an honor to serve you.”
“You’ll serve me yet, dear squire,” John replied. “I’ll call Merlin over, perhaps there is some magic that can…”
“It’s too late for magic,” Chatburn replied, smiling. “It’s not magic at all, just tricks.” More than once, the two of them had debated about magic and wizardry; John certain of its existence and Chatburn as equally convinced that it didn’t. The content of those debates was something of a private joke between the two of them.
“We’ll prove that I’m right in an instant,” John responded and then stood to call out for Merlin.
Though the wizard came quickly in response to John’s call, his arrival came too late. As they knelt over Chatburn together, his eyes were fixed in a steady gaze, the smile still lingered on his face and his spirit had left them.
“I’m afraid it’s too late for your squire, Sir John,” Merlin said in a soft tone as he used his fingers to close Chatburn’s eyelids.
John’s first reaction was to draw his sword and start after Dunmor. “You’ll lose your head for this Dunmor!” he bellowed.
“John! John! Stay thyself!” Thomas shouted at him as he blocked his path. “There is no honor in this.”
“Honor be damned!” John responded, attempting to move around his brother knight and pursue his quarry, who had risen to his feet and faced him with a taunting smirk.
“Think of your father!” Alpina called out to him. And then, in a quiet voice as she moved toward him, she added another bit of wisdom. “This man can lead us to him.”
It was the sound of Alpina’s voice and the reference to his father that stayed John’s hand. With his anger unquenched, John thrust his sword back into its sheath and strode away several paces away from the rest. Having steamed for several moments, he heard the soft footsteps of Alpina approaching him.
“I suppose you knew of this,” he grum
bled.
“I knew that there would be a tragedy today, but I knew neither who nor what form it would take,” she answered.
John remained silent and Alpina didn’t press him to speak; she simply stood beside him, offering the comfort of her presence. Their silence was broken a few moments later as Thomas approached. “I think it is best if we pass the night here and tend to…”
“That will be fine,” John interrupted, not eager for a discussion.
“Your plan worked,” Thomas said after a moment. “We lost a good man in Chatburn. However, we’ve not only wiped out our adversary, but we’ve gained the use of a captive who can lead us to your father.”
The words fell on deaf ears as John continued to mourn the loss of Chatburn. After some time, Thomas’ words took effect and John realized that they had to press forward with their quest and rescue his father. With a heavy sigh, he turned toward the others, stopping for a momentary glance at Alpina before he moved in their direction.
“I will tend to Ganador and to your things,” Alpina offered.
“I’d rather tend to them myself,” he muttered. “And to Chatburn as well.”
“Then I will come along to assist,” she replied.
“That will not be necessary,” he answered in a stern voice.
“It wasn’t a request,” she responded in kind.
In spite of his initial irritation at her joining him, John was glad that she had. She did not speak nor try to console him, she just worked alongside him as they wrapped the squire in a blanket, set up his tent and laid his lifeless body inside of it.
Together, they tended to their mounts and to the pack animals that carried their supplies and then set up their own tents for the night. With a fire going, they prepared a meal and settled in for the evening.