The horse whinnied appropriately, as if she had actually understood Illianah. “I cannot say I would like it much. I prefer to be free. Unencumbered.” This time the horse did not acknowledge Illianah, but she continued talking anyway, “I suppose you have never known what it is like to be free.… Then again, I’ve never been truly free either, but I have dreamt of it.”
Just as Illianah began to ponder whether Kasba had ever had a wild heart, or whether she had been born into captivity, two soldiers crested the hill just ahead, rushing at full speed toward the royal procession. They stopped and spoke with their Highness, Prince Harrington. His horse stopped as well. And while she could not hear the words, she could tell that the soldiers had brought distressing news. Leif turned and raced his horse toward her, the small pack of soldiers at his tail.
Leif’s eyes were wide, his face panicked. “An army from Deltegra has crossed our border. They are marching here … to Freidlenburg.” His words were rushed and full of fear.
“What? From Deltegra? That is impossible.”
“It is not impossible. It is happening. Our scouts have discovered them, just north of here by three miles.”
“What?” Illianah again asked. Deltegra was a small country. Its army, also small. And they were initiating an attack on Burchess? That was absurd.
“I must go warn your father. You, you and you,” Leif said, pointing to three soldiers, “ride with me. The rest of you take the princess and secure the castle.”
“You will leave me here … while we are under attack?” Illianah’s shock had grown to bewilderment.
“We cannot fight them, Your Highness. They outnumber us ten to one. We must get the army from the capitol and return. You will be safe inside.” Leif’s horse was prancing nervously, obviously sensing the anxiety of his rider. He cast his fear-filled eyes upon her momentarily, then he nodded at the men, who then turned their horses back to Freidlenburg Castle.
“Do not leave me here! I can ride with you.” Leif instantly shook his head, but she continued to plead her cause. “I am an expert rider. I will keep up.”
“No, My Lady. You will stay.”
“I will ride astride.” That was her preferred way to ride anyhow—when she was out in the country, away from curious eyes.
“You will not.”
Leif’s tone stung so severely that Illianah’s cheeks burned hot and her eyes began to water. He may as well have slapped her across the cheek. “Do not leave me,” she begged, her voice barely loud enough to reach his ears.
“You will be safe. Captain Durant will tend to you.”
He tipped his hat and then turned and left. That was his goodbye? He looked as if he had no remorse for leaving his new bride behind. Illianah again watched Leif’s backside as he strode away from her. She was too stunned to move. Captain Durant grabbed Kasba’s reigns and said, “Princess, we must get to the castle quickly.”
“I can handle the horse myself,” she said, yanking the reigns out of Captain Durant’s hands. She would show them that she could go just as fast as any man.
Which she did. She beat the soldiers to Freidlenburg Castle, but their shouts were just behind her. “We are under attack. Seal the castle!”
The next few minutes were utter chaos. The drawbridge was closed and the small army was positioned around the wall of Freidlenburg Castle. Illianah was ushered into the chapel with the rest of the castle’s population, where the door was barricaded shut.
“How long before they are upon us?” she asked Lord Braithwell, who was now at her side, as well as his family.
“Within the next half-hour.”
“Will they be able to breech our walls?”
Lord Braithwell had tiny beads of sweat across his forehead. That was not a good sign—the Lord of the Castle was fearful of this unexpected invasion. “Yes, My Lady, they will. We do not have the forces to withstand this kind of attack.”
“How many? How many men do we have?”
“Only a hundred.”
“One hundred?” That was deplorable. The town nearest to the border of Deltegra should have greater forces.
“Yes. That is double the norm, because of …”
“My arrival.”
Lord Braithwell hesitated and then nodded. “Yes, My Lady.”
“And how many … how many soldiers did our spies see marching toward us?”
“Hundreds, My Lady. At least ten legions.”
Ten legions? Each legion consisted of a hundred soldiers. It was as Leif had said: they were outnumbered ten to one.
“How long before we receive help?” she asked.
“It is likely that Prince Harrington will send troops from Bremlin as he passes through on his way to the capitol. That will give us another hundred men.”
“That will do nothing. And how long …” Illianah could hear the panic rising in her voice. She swallowed and tried again, “How long until my father’s troops reach us?”
“It is three hours on horseback, Princess. Each way. The cavalry should make it here before nightfall.”
A cry came from over Illianah’s shoulder; she then realized Lady Braithwell and her daughters were listening to the conversation. “We are done for!” Lady Braithwell cried.
Her daughters began weeping as well. Lord Braithwell tried to calm them. “We will be fine. They will just get what they came for and leave us be. I am sure of it.”
Get what they came for? Illianah’s heart seemed to be suspended somewhere within her throat. Fear crept through her body so much so that she could no longer move, or speak.
Chapter Two
Waiting for the soldiers from Deltegra to breach the castle walls felt like waiting for the world to end. All the women and children hiding within the chapel were crying, as if this really was the end to their world. Illianah did not cry, even though she was the one who had the most to fear. Why else would Deltegra come attack Freidlenburg now?
It was obvious when Deltegra’s soldiers came within the castle’s ward. The incessant banging and yelling stopped. It grew eerily silent. The tears within the chapel stopped instantly, as if everyone instinctively knew the sound of the crying would give away their location to the soldiers.
Lord Braithwell had his head bowed; his lips moved with the verses of a silent prayer. Lady Braithwell had her arms around her children, offering them silent reassurances. As Illianah looked around the chapel, anger grew within her chest. All these people were just sitting here, doing nothing but waiting helplessly for their capture. Someone should do something; they should be preparing to fight back!
A wooden pew lined the wall. If she could step on the back of the pew, she might just be able to see out the window at the top of the wall. “What are you doing?” Lord Braithwell whispered as she began to climb the pew.
She did not answer. What did he think she was doing? Needlepoint?
The courtyard was perfectly in sight; Illianah could see dozens of Deltegran soldiers in full armor. Some were guarding prisoners, although it looked as if only a dozen soldiers from the village of Freidlenburg had been taken captive. What had happened to the rest of the village defenders?
She could see other Deltegran soldiers moving in and out of the castle, look for treasure perhaps. Or looking for her. One soldier gestured toward the chapel. But a soldier with an exceptionally ornate breastplate—probably their commander—shook his head. What did that mean? Would he not enter the sanctuary of a house of God? She knew the Deltegrans to be devoutly religious, but to the point where they would not pursue their enemy within holy walls? Could that even be possible?
Her focus shifted to the courtyard near the stables. Soldiers were leading out Lord Braithwell’s horses and harnessing them together in groups of four. She inhaled sharply. “They are stealing your horses,” she whispered to Lord Braithwell. “And supplies,” she added once she saw a number of carts in the courtyard. The carts were long, and guessing from the excessive number of wheels, the carts were heavy as well. What was
Deltegra hoping to accomplish? To cut Freidlenburg off from other communities and starve them out?
“I knew this would not go without consequence,” Lord Braithwell muttered. But he would offer nothing further.
Kasba! Illianah saw the mottled white horse being led from the stable. Kasba was resisting her captors—she reared up and kicked everything that came within her path. Ah, she was free of heart, just like Illianah. Kasba was fighting for her freedom. Illianah should be making a stand as well. “I will not allow this,” Illianah said in a loud whisper. She hopped down from the pew and headed to the heavy wooden door which was braced shut with a wooden beam. “Open it,” she said; this time she did not whisper. She was no longer worried about the discovery of their hiding place.
“My Lady, I cannot. I am charged to protect you,” Lord Braithwell said.
“You are not. Durant was charged to protect me but he has abandoned me for his own pursuits.” She knew that was not exactly the truth. Durant had left her so he could fight with Lord Braithwell’s limited number of troops. His skills would be better used defending the castle than cowering inside a chapel. But where was he now? Dead with an arrow through his neck? Illianah shuddered thinking of the fate of those soldiers who had been atop the castle’s walls.
“He directed me to keep you safe, Princess. I cannot let you leave the chapel.”
“I am ordering you, Lord Braithwell, to open that door. Immediately.”
He blinked several times and then began to shake his head. “Now, Lord Braithwell,” she again commanded. He still hesitated. “They will not harm me. I am the only child of the king. They would not dare. They know the value of my crown.”
He nodded and lifted the beam bracing the door. Illianah stepped out into the sunlight. She heard the door shut and the beam behind the door slide back into place. Her stomach sank upon hearing the sound; Lord Braithwell offered his protection in words only.
Illianah blinked at the sunlight. It normally felt warm and reassuring to feel the sun on her face, but not today. It felt like the sun was illuminating her, announcing her arrival into the courtyard.
She pushed her shoulders back and walked confidently toward the castle, searching for the man with the ornate breastplate. It seemed as if the courtyard had become frozen by a witch’s spell, as the Deltegran soldiers did not move an inch as she walked past. But their eyes moved; she could feel them upon her, watching, likely waiting for her surrender.
Once the soldier with the ornate breastplate was ten feet from her, she stopped. “I am Princess Illianah, daughter of King Gregory. I demand that you stop this looting and thievery at once. Leave this castle, or be prepared to face the wrath of the kingdom of Burchess.”
Her voice surprised her: she did not expect to sound so forceful—so fearless—because on the inside, she felt as if she were standing in the midst of a freezing rainstorm. She wanted to shiver. She wanted to curl up into a ball and protect herself from the threatening elements.
Another soldier stepped from the shadows of the castle and into her view. He carried his helmet underneath his arm and had a green and gold sash across his chest. She knew this man. “Ah, Princess Illianah. There you are. We wondered whether or not you were still visiting the castle. And your prince …?”
It was General Montague. She had met him years before when King Henrick and his son, Henrick the Second, had visited the Burchessian capital of St. Moraine. General Montague had command over the entire army of Deltegra. And he was here? Leading this charge against the tiny village of Freidlenburg? Obviously this was more than a simple raid. “Prince Harrington’s guards saw you cross the border this morning, General Montague. They have gone to the capital to warn my father. His troops are on their way. They will find you and they will stop you. They will show you no mercy. I, on the other hand, will. Take your soldiers and leave at once. I will make certain that you have time to get back to Deltegra before Prince Harrington sends troops after you.”
“I am overwhelmed by your compassion, Princess,” General Montague mocked. He had the same dark, soulless eyes as all the royals of Deltegra. He was, in fact, a nephew of the Deltegran king. And by the way he glowered at the princess, she could see he had been raised with a deep-seeded hatred for the house of Burchess, just as she had been raised to hate him and his kind. “Where is Lord Braithwell?”
“He is gone as well. Gone to get the army from St. Moraine.”
“Gone? You mean to tell me that the lord of this castle and the prince both left to warn the king? One might think they were running in fear, leaving their women and children behind. Very dishonorable.”
“And you call crossing our border and invading a defenseless village honorable?”
General Montague smiled, yet it was not a smile of happiness. It was conniving. “Well, if Braithwell is not here, we will just have to take you instead.”
Two soldiers approached her, one on either side. “Take me?” she asked, her throat constricting with panic. One of the soldiers grabbed her around the arm. She immediately began to fight off her attackers, but before she knew it, her other arm was captured. A bag was then thrown over her head, making her heart beat so rapidly it felt as if it might burst. She continued to struggle. “Let me go!” But as she inhaled, her chest instantly burned. The bag around her head smelled peculiar. It smelled like … like….
***
Her head throbbed. She was aware that she had been moving for quite some time, as she could feel the swaying motion of the carriage. She could feel every jolt and lurch as the carriage wheels crossed the rough terrain, but she could not sit up to see where they were. The few times when Illianah did open her eyes, she had to quickly close them again, as she seemed to be in the midst of a whirlwind. She did not know how her carriage was able to continue moving forward when the world was in upheaval around them.
When the carriage finally came to a stop, she again opened her eyes. Her head was still pounding in pain, but at least the landscape had stopped spinning. She sat up, and then promptly lay back down. It felt like her head was about to split in two. She did not know where she was, but she could hear men’s voices. Soldiers, probably. She tried to focus—to listen to what they were saying—but she could not make sense of the words. The only thing she could do was to hold still and wait for her head to stop throbbing.
Someone moaned, making Illianah realize that she was not alone in the enclosed carriage. “Lord Braithwell,” she whispered. He was lying on the bench opposite her. His hair was matted with dried blood. “Lord Braithwell,” she again whispered. His shoulder moved, and then he again moaned. “Are you hurt? Where is your family?”
Lord Braithwell made no attempt at answering. Illianah knew he was not capable of helping her. She had to find a way to escape.
She was not tied up. Her captors must have surmised that she would not wake before they arrived at their destination. They should have taken her sheer determination into consideration.
Illianah sat up, but this time she closed her eyes and held onto her head until the throbbing diminished. When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was a wall. A tall limestone wall. She inhaled deeply. Were they already inside the walls of the castle? How would she be able to escape?
They were in the courtyard. There was so much movement within the courtyard that Illianah instantly began to feel dizzy again. So many soldiers. Escape was out of the question. Just as she was about to slink back down onto the bench, she caught sight of someone. He was not wearing armor or riding gear. He had not been out with the war party. Prince Henrick.
General Montague approached Prince Henrick. They exchanged unheard words and then it became apparent that Prince Henrick was upset. He began pacing back and forth, his hand at his mouth. Then he gestured toward her carriage with short, angry movements. Was he upset that she had been brought here, to his castle? Illianah breathed the first deep, filling breath since earlier in the day when news of the invasion interrupted her quiet ride with Kasba. Prince
Henrick might be her enemy, but he was not ruthless. He would release her. She would be back at Freidlenburg by tomorrow afternoon, reunited with her prince and thousands of angry soldiers who would eagerly hunt down General Montague and his troops.
Prince Henrick was still pacing and slinging words at Montague. At one point, he turned as if he was leaving and walked toward the steps to the castle. But then he returned, madly shaking his head at Montague. It was easy to read his lips at first. He said, “I cannot believe …” but then he turned his head and Illianah could no longer see his mouth. He seemed to take a deep breath, straighten his shoulders, and then he began to walk in her direction.
Her heart stopped beating. She quickly sat back, sinking into the side of the carriage. She had not seen Prince Henrick in two years and when they had last parted, she had imagined they would never speak again.
The carriage door opened. He stepped into view. “Princess Illianah,” he said with a chivalrous nod. His black eyes looked penitent. “My apologies for your … treatment. I trust that you are well?”
“No, My Lord, I am not well! I have just spent the last who-knows-how-long benumbed in the back of a prisoner carriage.”
“Again, I apologize. General Montague forgot himself. I am afraid he is all too accustomed to battle tactics and not at all knowledgeable in the proper treatment of ladies. It is a true wonder he is yet unmarried.” Prince Henrick’s lips pulled up in the smallest of smile. He still looked boyish, even though he now had a beard across his jaw. Obviously he too was preparing to become a distinguished king.
“Do not jest with me,” she said quickly. “I see no humor in this situation.”
He nodded again. “Of course. I only meant to make you feel comfortable.”
“Comfortable?” Illianah’s cheek’s burned. She once did feel comfortable around Prince Henrick, but she would never allow herself such leisure again. “You are hoping to make your prisoner comfortable? You prove yourself, once again, to be weak, vulnerable and useless.”
The Reign of Trees Page 2