The Havenshire Resistance (Heirs to the Throne Book 2)

by Diane Rapp

  Good. Rest for now, and we will summon you when it’s time to leave.

  Krystal spread blankets on the cold stone floor of the cave, but felt uncomfortable knowing Jarrack’s men were near.

  When the sky darkened, Kriegen led them outside. Krystal locked the heavy door and they dragged branches across the entrance. Kriegen guided the frightened humans through dark shadows that masked their progress, trudging through thickets and streams, never far from the jangling and clomping sounds of soldiers and their horses. It took hours to travel a few miles. The protection of the heavy forest was close.

  Suddenly Kriegen’s ears twitched and a muffled growl rumbled in his chest

  “Stop! You there! Come out of those bushes or forfeit your life!” a voice bellowed. Krystal hunched down on the ground, covering her trembling daughters with a dark cape. Several paces ahead Chella and Maggie slipped behind trees, well out of sight. “I said come out!”

  Dr. Alexander rose holding his hands high above his head. Krystal gasped, but sent calming thoughts to quiet the girls.

  “I am unarmed.” Dr. Alexander’s voice sounded surprisingly steady. “Don’t harm me, I’m just a doctor.” As he spoke, Alex walked toward the solder and drifted away from Krystal’s hiding place.

  “Heinrich, come over here! I’ve caught someone.” Heavy boots thudded across the ground. “He says he’s a doctor. Hold your lantern higher so we can see.”

  “Unhand me, man! I’m the royal physician and expect to be treated with dignity.” The doctor’s voice carried the tone of authority, a sound Krystal remembered from their days in space. The soldiers reacted.

  “Yes, milord, please come this way.”

  Kriegen nudged her with his cold nose. Come into the forest before they regain their senses and search for you. He crept forward, leading them into the deep woods.

  Blustering with indignant remarks, Dr. Alexander held the guards attention with his performance. He crashed through the brush, coughing and complaining loudly about mistreatment.

  “We just can’t leave him!” Maggie whispered.

  Krystal said, “We must. It was his choice. He knew what he was doing, and we must accept his decision. Get the girls to safety.”

  Chella’s eyes flashed and her low tone sounded raspy with emotion. “She’s right. Let’s get out of here before his sacrifice becomes a useless gesture.”

  Krystal stroked the small head leaning against her side. “Any attempt to help Alex will put the children into danger.” A lump formed in her chest as she fought back her tears. Alex was no soldier! He shouldn’t have to risk himself.

  Krystal worried about Trenton, fighting an army with a small band of men. She glanced at Maggie and knew he’d never give up. His fierce mountain pride would keep him fighting against all odds. She made mental contact with Alex. He felt overwhelmed by fatigue and trauma, so Krystal gripped her amulet and projected energy into his mind until she could spare no more. He deliberately broke contact, but she knew he felt grateful for her help.

  *****

  Chella’s muscles shook with fatigue. For five years she spent her time peacefully studying religion; working with the nuns and priests, healing, and praying. It had been a blissful experience, but she’d neglected her physical fitness. Now Chella gasped for breath after a short run and felt irate. When this was over, she’d resume a strict regime of training.

  When would it be over? If the castle fell to Jarrack, Donovan must lay siege to regain the stronghold. Where would his family live during the interim? Glimpses of possible futures flickered through her brain, but in every scenario the immediate future looked bleak. Even if Donovan fought a short war, disgruntled lords would fight throughout the kingdom and make life uncertain for loyalists. A protracted war doomed them to months, perhaps years in hiding. She knew her days of peaceful study were gone.

  *****

  Kriegen led the group through the entrance of a large cave. Glowing eyes stared at the humans. Abruptly a round ball of fluff bounded at Kriegen, yelping with delight. He licked the black face and the cub rolled onto her back, kicking her paws in the air. The girls giggled. The sound attracted the cub and she charged them, tripping over her own oversized paws.

  Kriegen nuzzled his mate and turned to Krystal. This is my mate, Tendra.

  Welcome, humans. We offer food and shelter for as long as you may need. Tendra wagged her tail.

  Krystal replied, Thank you. We gratefully accept your hospitality. She noticed Tendra relax as they watched the girls play with the cub, trying to avoid needle-sharp teeth and giggling as a wet tongue washed each face. Curious humans and wolves peered at each other. The cub barked and a second cub dashed into the circle to play.

  The cave felt safe. Krystal’s tension vanished and fatigue almost made her stagger.

  The humans needed rest so Tendra herded her cubs back to their lair, and Krystal coaxed the girls away with promises of more fun after they slept. The tired humans spread blankets in a warm corner and fell asleep, secure in the protection of the pack.

  *****

  Donovan listened to the Lords argue with growing impatience. Did these idiots deserve a voice in government? Perhaps he should make a royal proclamation and force them to obey for the good of the common people. They were used to following orders…No…A man without free will was a slave. He’d studied enough history to know that civilizations prospered when people learned to govern themselves.

  Sir Hembly flicked a lace handkerchief in the air. “This discussion is too tedious. I move we adjourn.”

  He caught Donovan off guard. “What?”

  “I second the motion,” an anonymous voice called out.

  “We won’t accomplish anything in abbreviated sessions,” Donovan objected.

  “I call for the vote!” Sir Hembly’s nasal voice whined. “All in favor…” A chorus of ayes rang out.

  Outvoted, Donovan bolted from his chair and swept the room with his piercing gaze. “How many days do you plan to waste in futile arguing?”

  “Perhaps you will see reason on the morrow.” Sir Hembly’s voice dripped with malice.

  “Oh? What inducement will you provide, Hembly?”

  The man’s cold stare sent a chill up Donovan’s spine. Hembly said, “Perhaps we can find an inducement that you can’t resist.”

  Donovan stormed out of the tent and summoned his men. “They’re hatching a plot; I know it in my bones. Where’s Jarrack? I haven’t seen his ugly face for two days.”

  “He’s sick abed according to his men.” Bryant sounded unconvinced. “We’ve seen little activity in his camp, a few guards and women moving about.”

  “Mandrake, you’ve always been able to turn a pretty head. See if you can dredge up any rumors from the ladies.”

  Bryant said, “Marasuta should stay at your side, Donovan. You may need protection if it’s a plot against your person.”

  Donovan started to object but understood Bryant’s concern. He nodded approval and sat thinking while Marasuta polished his spotless sword with a red silk cloth. “What’s happening?” Donovan asked.

  Marasuta arched an eyebrow. “We will soon find out. The Lords are not accustomed to keeping secrets, and I can feel tension building.”

  *****

  Bryant stopped at the aviary. The regular messenger bird from Havenshire was overdue. “Send a bird to the castle. Ask Trenton to reply with several birds to ensure a message gets through.”

  His long stride crossed the camp in minutes. “What happens in Jarrack’s camp?” he demanded from his lieutenant.

  “The only sign of life is women peeking from tents, and Andrew claims their best horses are gone.”

  The muscle in Bryant’s jaw twitched. He gazed into the sky and spotted a speck. “There’s our messenger bird at last.”

  “Sire! There is another bird!” They watched the two birds laboriously wing toward the aviary coops, and then a loud twang sounded from behind them. An arrow whistled past and downed the first bird.<
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  Bryant whipped around and shouted, “Get that archer!”

  The archer let fly another missile while Bryant ran into the field, looking for the downed bird. He didn’t plan to lose that message! He saw a dark figure skitter out from the woods to grab the fowl. Bryant clenched his teeth. He realized he was too far away to chase the man and turned back to the aviary. Loud flapping overhead drew his attention to the second bird, laboring to safety.

  Another loud twang vibrated the air. Bryant saw Mandrake poised with bow in hand, its string still vibrating. Mandrake grinned as his arrow deflected the first missile. The exhausted bird dove toward the coop, feathers flying. Bryant scrambled into the coop and reached into the cage. He jerked back as the bird delivered a sharp peck.

  “Don’t strike me, you featherbrain!” Pulling on a leather glove, he gripped the bird and retrieved a capsule from the stick-like leg. He unrolled the thin strip of paper with shaking hands.

  “The castle’s under attack,” Mandrake said before Bryant read the message.

  “Yes. How’d you know?”

  “I assembled the clues. A barmaid sulks because her boyfriend has been gone for two nights, the desert women huddle inside their tents, and Havenshire is a two-day ride on a strong horse. I was on my way to report my suspicions when I spotted the first bird fall. I wager Trenton sent all his birds at once, hoping one could make it through.”

  “I agree. This bird’s wing is injured but it kept flying. We’d better tell Donovan.”

  Donovan was already packing his gear. He said, “I think the castle’s in danger. Let’s get moving.”

  Bryant held up the message. “Aye, it’s under siege.”

  “Damn you, Jarrack!” Donovan growled.

  “He’s like a weasel, waiting until the nest is unguarded to steal the eggs.” Marasuta hefted a full pack to his shoulder and slid his sword into its hilt.

  “Have everyone ready to leave within the hour,” Donovan barked.

  Noticing Donovan’s troop mounted on horseback, Sir Hembly stormed into the king’s camp. “What’s the meaning of this? You can’t leave the negotiations. We have more demands…” He backed away under Donovan’s stony glare. “You’ve heard about the rebellion.” His hand grasped the hilt of his rapier.

  Donovan turned Tempest. The horse raked the turf with steel-plated hooves. “Pray my family is unharmed or I’ll rip out your heart with my bare hands.”

  Hembly stepped behind a bodyguard, blotting his mouth with a lace handkerchief. “I will not forget these threats, Donovan. The Lords will vote you down on every question.”

  Donovan’s face turned crimson and his green eyes glared. “The council is disbanded until this war is decided. Enough is enough!”

  They raced like madmen through a day and night, praying they’d arrive in time to help Trenton defend the castle. Donovan’s heart sank at the sight of Jarrack’s flag atop a white spire, whipping like a red snake in the wind. His blood boiled but uncertainty filled his chest. He stopped his men on a hill overlooking the castle.

  2 ~ BREACHING HAVENSHIRE

  Donovan stared at Havenshire, willing himself to see inside the walls. Had his family reached safety? How could he risk their lives by attacking recklessly? Tempest sidled and huffed with impatience. Low grumbling broke out among the men, and Donovan knew they were close to doubting his courage.

  He surveyed the stronghold. Breaching Havenshire was an intriguing problem. The fortress was well-stocked, so it would take too much time to starve them out. A long delay might give Jarrack time to learn castle secrets that Donovan preferred to keep hidden.

  Donovan remembered King Halder. Radiation poison filled his body, yet Halder kept himself alive to wreak revenge on the killer of his family. Did Halder’s ghost remain inside the ring Donovan now wore, ready to avenge another wrong? He rubbed the ring but its stone remained dull.

  He projected his thoughts to reach Krystal’s mind but met Jarrack’s mind instead. So you dare come for me, Donovan! You believe you can defeat me inside your own castle? Hearing Jarrack’s mental voice, fear shot through Donovan’s chest.

  What have you done with my family? Donovan couldn’t stop his mind from asking the question foremost in his thoughts.

  Come inside and find out for yourself. If you come alone, under a flag of truce, I will spare your men. Jarrack’s mental voice dripped with venom.

  The ring on Donovan’s hand suddenly glowed bright red.

  Did that indicate a lie in the situation? “Is my family safe?” he whispered to the ring. The glow turned gold and warmth filled his breast. Castle gossip claimed the ring on his hand was magic and named it the Ring of Truth. Donovan prayed they were right and projected his thoughts to Jarrack. In truth my family escaped the castle. You don’t hold them captive, do you? The gold in the ring sparkled.

  Jarrack remained silent, erasing any remaining doubt in Donovan’s mind. He realized Jarrack had been careful to avoid a direct claim, letting him believe Krystal was still in the castle.

  Donovan smiled. Unwittingly Jarrack told the truth, giving him the freedom to wage an assault on the castle. I’m coming inside the castle with an army at my back, his mind shouted to Jarrack.

  Turning Tempest to face his men, Donovan sat tall in the saddle and shouted, “We don’t know who remains captive behind those walls…we do know that they’re dead if we sit here like frightened rabbits. Already the walls of Havenshire are stained with the blood of our friends, so today we spill the blood of cowards who attack in stealth. I vow to fight Jarrack until I draw my last breath. Are you with me?”

  The army roared in approval, swinging sabers over their heads. Donovan gazed into familiar faces. Men who once followed him into the cold nothingness of space stood ready to fight, joined by scores of new friends. “We fight!” Donovan shouted. He spurred Tempest and the great war-horse charged into battle quivering with excitement.

  Heavy boots trampled the stubs of harvested crops into the fertile soil surrounding the castle. The stench of horse dung and sweat fused with the coppery scent of blood, and the clank of steel against steel merged with the grunts, shouts, and death cries of men who fought hand-to-hand. Mandrake’s archers loosed arrows like machine guns, Bryant’s cavalry broke through barricades like tanks, and Marasuta’s Samurai swordsmen slashed through flesh like scythes. The army slowly pushed through the enemy to reach the gates of Havenshire. As a telepath Donovan felt the pain of his dying men, but he also possessed an advantage that might sway the course of the battle. He jumped from Tempest’s saddle and slipped into “speed time.”

  Donovan had developed special talents during the centuries he served as a soldier with the Institute. When soldiers were mortally wounded or too old to be useful, doctors transferred the soldiers’ minds time and again into cloned replacement bodies. The process of Transfer, invented by Dr. Alexander to save the world from disease, created immortality but the cost was high. People gave up their freedom and lived under the control of the Institute.

  When Donovan and the Zebulon crew escaped from the Institute, their ship and all its Transfer equipment was destroyed. They resolved to live one last lifetime as free citizens on Drako. Dr. Alexander discovered that multiple Transfers enhanced each crew member’s natural abilities. They had all become telepaths. In addition the doctor healed patients with his mind, Trenton followed a trail by instinct, Krystal projected energy with her mind, Maggie detected radiation, and Chella saw visions of the future. Their enemy Jarrack used mind control, invading dreams, to force people to do his bidding.

  In normal activities Donovan avoided using speed time. He could touch inanimate objects and move faster than an eye could detect. He couldn’t touch another living creature, or he’d slip back into normal time. Today his talent could turn the course of the battle and save lives.

  As he slid off Tempest’s saddle and touched the ground, the battle froze around him. In Donovan’s perception everyone else moved in slow motion while he darted past w
eapons poised to strike. Grinning, Donovan spent a few heartbeats to reshape the battlefield. He confiscated weapons, moved barricades, and knocked down arrows in mid-flight. Those desert riders were in for some surprises! He chastised himself for not thinking of this sooner. He wove a path through guards at the gate, pleased that Bryant stood ready to break through the barrier. Donovan emptied the hand of Bryant’s adversary and entered the castle.

  He examined the scene inside the courtyard. With blood dripping from a head wound, Trenton stood helpless, tied to a post. He still glowered at the guards surrounding him. Donovan cut his ropes and placed a dagger into Trenton’s hand, knowing that Bryant would arrive in time to give Trenton a fighting chance.

  Donovan felt exhilarated.

  He disarmed Trenton’s guards, hefted a spear to test its balance, and went in search of Jarrack. The coward stood in a tower window, a lofty position where he safely observed the battle alongside Lords who once claimed to be Donovan’s allies. They occupied the guest tower. Donovan had lived in that same tower before winning the crown. He knew the layout.

  Doubt niggled at Donovan’s mind.

  Why did Jarrack choose this tower? The living quarters of the royal tower were spacious and more lavishly furnished than this modest tower. Donovan entered the ground floor guardroom, skirted past armed soldiers and climbed to the main floor antechamber. The door to the left led to a narrow staircase that climbed to servants’ wing. It accessed the upper bedroom suites, but the stairs were narrow with no room for him to avoid living bodies. The hall to the right led into a small kitchen and interior corridors that connected with other towers, more tight quarters.

  He’d better go through the main hall and climb the wide circular staircase to the upper floors. He entered the hall and barred the massive doors with the spear he carried, unconcerned about proceeding weaponless. He’d take a sword from the next guard he met.