Beneath the cover of the trees, Parlan scouted out a few dry twigs and leaves, and with his flint and striker, lit a fire. Tyler removed a shank cutting of roast lamb from his saddlebag, which he divided equally between them. Hunched over the feeble fire, they tried to exorcise the damp chill from their bones, as they discussed the means of entering the castle. Engrossed in their plans it was too late to react when a twig snapped behind them. As Nemeila started, a thick leather clad arm encircled her throat, and the blade of a dagger pricked her cheek.
“Throw away the dagger, boy,” barked a gruff voice. As Tyler and Parlan dropped their weapons, four other men stepped out of the shadows. Each held a blade and the boys realised they were too far away from Nemeila to save her from harm. The men grabbed them, binding their hands behind their backs and tying their ankles together. When they were securely bound, the men picked them up as if they weighed nothing and tossed them into the back of the cart they had waiting. Nemeila was also shackled, but before she was thrown in with the boys, one of the men noticed the amulet sparkling on her arm.
“This must be worth a fortune,” grinned the one called Curly, greedily, “hold her still while I get it off.”
He tried to force it over her hand but it was too tight. He twisted it back and forth on her arm, searching for a clasp, but found no release mechanism.
“Hold her arm out straight, and we’ll do this the easy way,” he ordered his comrade.
He raised his sword ready to slice through her wrist, but as Nemeila closed her eyes, preparing for the incredible pain she knew would follow, should the amulet not react to save her, Dermot Masters pushed him aside.
“Lord Tobyn wants her in one piece, you fool,” he cursed. “If you cut her hand off out here, she’ll bleed to death and won’t be worth a penny to us. When we hand her over to his Lordship, I’ll ask if we might have the bracelet or its worth in gold. I’m sure he will be more than willing to express his gratitude with that little trinket.”
They jolted along in silence, Tyler furious with himself for allowing a ruffian like Masters to take them by surprise. As the cart rumbled its way over the uneven grassland, their captors were bragging how easy it was to make drinking money with Prince Kaleb in power.
“So how much will we get for them alive?” asked one of Masters’ cronies.
“Enough to see us all right for at least a few months,” Masters replied, looking round at his prisoners. “Think yourselves lucky you’re worth more alive than dead,” he spat at Tyler, “I’ve always had a dislike for your sort. Think you’re better than the rest of us, because your old man’s got his own plot of land. It would have given me great pleasure to slit your throat if we’d still have got paid as much for it.” He laughed throatily revealing his badly stained chipped teeth. Tyler looked away from him in disgust. Tyler met Nemeila’s eyes and mouthed, ‘I’m sorry’.
“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered, “at least we are still alive. Don’t give up hope. And on the bright side, it will get us to the castle.” She attempted a smile at her feeble joke, but her lips failed to respond.
When it became too dark to travel, Masters steered the cart towards a small copse of a dozen or so thin trees, which, Tyler noted, would only afford them meagre shelter. As one of the men unhitched the horse from the cart, and set about building a fire, two of the others carried a barrel of ale to the fireside, where they started an advance celebration of their windfall. Masters pulled a greasy pack of cards from a pouch and they began gambling, staking their yet to be collected portion of the reward, on the turn of the cards. Tyler and Nemeila had been dragged from the back of the cart and bound to one of the trees, while Parlan had a tree of his own; it was Masters’ way of being able to keep an eye on them. As the card game drew to a close, one of the players, a large barrel of a man, staggered on ale-sodden legs towards them, he cupped Nemeila’s chin in his rough scabbed hand, lifting her face into a beam of moonlight. “I’ll be sorry to see you hang,” he slurred, “pretty girl like you could go far. But your head on the spike will be a sight to gladden many a man’s heart.” He checked their bonds, then wove his way unsteadily back to the warmth of the fire. “I wish Amber was here,” Nemeila said, despairingly, “if he’d been with us, with his ears they’d never have taken us by surprise.” As Nemeila scanned the floor of the clearing, she noticed a sharp piece of flint and began toeing it towards her. By wriggling her body and bending her legs, she dragged it as far as her bottom, and then lifting herself up, she managed to push it far enough for eager fingers to scrabble up. “I’m going to try and saw through the rope at your wrist, so hold still,” she murmured, “only I can’t see and I’m not sure this flint is sharp enough.” “Anything’s worth a try,” said Tyler. “If we’re going to face the sorcerer, I’d prefer to do it with a sword in my hand, not with them tied behind my back.”
Nemeila positioned the sharp edge of the flint against the rope and began the tedious job of moving it back and forth. Due to the way they had been tied, each with their backs against the tree there was no way for Nemeila to know exactly what she was cutting. Every now and then she heard Tyler gasp as she obviously sliced his skin rather than the rope. Finally, when her fingers had grown numb with the cold and the effort, Tyler snapped the remaining strands that bound him. He glanced at the sleeping bodies near the fire, and was pleased to hear the loud snorting snores. He quickly untied his feet, and then turning he untied the ropes binding Nemeila. She caught sight of the gouges on his wrists where the flint had missed the rope, and winced an apology. “A small price to pay,” he smiled, reassuringly. “Untie Parlan while I fetch the horses.” In a crouching walk, he crept to where Sox and Parlan’s horse was tethered, and silently led them back to his friends. Having helped her onto Sox’s back, he turned back towards the cart. “Where are you going?” she asked. “To release the other horses, it will stop them following us. If they awake, ride away. Your lives are far more important now that we know Tobyn really wants you dead.” Whereas Sox had accepted his master’s hand on his nose in silence, the horse used to pull the cart shied at a stranger’s touch, whinnying loudly and snorting clouds of steam down its nostrils. It was enough to gain Masters’ sleepy, beer-sozzled attention. Raising himself onto one elbow, he peered towards the cart, and seeing the boy attempting to calm the horse, scrambled to his knees and called out. “Get away from that horse, you little toe rag. It looks like you will be fetching the reward as a dead man.” Masters fell to the floor as his elbow gave way, and struggled to regain his feet. The others began to stir their addled brains, wondering what on earth was happening. Tyler let loose the reins and slapped the horse’s hindquarters, waving his arms wildly to drive him off, and finally the horse bolted. Masters was still on his knees, but his followers had climbed to their feet, where they circled Tyler, swords and daggers drawn. With a sword in his hand, Tyler might have stood a chance, having been taught the fine art of the weapon by Parlan’s tutor, in earlier better times before the old king’s death. He and the prince had been unbeatable as a team in the tournaments held while they were growing up. But with no weapon, he would be lucky to escape alive. As one of the men staggered, he seized his chance and ran through the gap in the circle towards Masters, kicking him under the chin; Masters dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. The other men were closing in; seconds were all he had. He heard Nemeila shout and turned to see her kicking Sox forward, she rode him into the nearest man and as Sox reared, Nemeila clinging desperately to his mane, and the man fell beneath the flailing hoofs. Tyler ran to where Parlan held out his hand, and grabbing his outstretched arm, swung himself up behind his friend. “Go boy, go,” he yelled across to Sox, as Nemeila dug her heels into his flank. As they galloped away, they heard the foul curses from the men they had outsmarted.
It was nearing dawn and the distance they’d put between themselves and Masters and his cronies was enough to allow them a short rest. “We’ll have to be more careful from now on,” said Tyler, “I t
hink it best if we avoid all villages and try to stay out of sight.” “You’re probably right,” nodded Nemeila. “I wonder how many others are dreaming about the reward for our capture.” She thoughtfully fingered the amulet on her wrist, wondering why it hadn’t helped them when they were in trouble. She closed her eyes and tried to command a reaction from the stones, but nothing happened. Maybe it only works if my life is really threatened, she considered. There was no more time to ponder these questions, as Tyler was on his feet, holding out a hand to help her up. Their destination, the castle, was now only a few leagues away, and it worried Tyler that they still had no real plan to gain entrance. The path they travelled led them through a tree-lined avenue; dense undergrowth clogged the view to their right, the close-set trees to the left were only slightly less menacing. Halfway through the tunnel of foliage, their gentle ride was rudely interrupted. Six soldiers suddenly leapt onto the path before them, swords drawn. Parlan shouted a warning, and as Tyler wheeled Sox sharply, he found the path behind them blocked by archers, arrows aimed at their hearts. There was no escape; any attempt at it would have resulted in instant death. “Lord Tobyn was right when he said you’d be coming this way,” sneered one of the swordsmen. “Get down from those horses!” Tyler dismounted, but before he could help Nemeila down, two burly men grabbed him; a third placed a noose round his neck, tossing the end over one of the lower limbs of the nearest tree. They bound his hands and tightened the rope sufficiently to enable his toes to rest on the ground, the only thing preventing him from choking to death. While his men dragged Parlan from his saddle, the leader of the troop of soldiers reached up and pulled Nemeila from Sox’s back. “Now what are we going to do with you, my little beauty?” His hot rancid breath bloomed into Nemeila’s face and she recoiled.
She had no time to call upon her powers. Instead, she looked the man in the eye, fury and disgust replacing fear on her young face. She clenched her small hand into a fist and slammed it mercilessly into his nose. Blood spurted, speckling her cheek and coursing down his lips as he reeled back in shock and pain, his hand clutching his face to try and stem the flow.
Recovering, he grabbed a handful of Nemeila’s tunic and held her dangling at arm’s length, shaking her like a rat. “You will wish you had never done that,” he snarled. “When the king hears of this disrespect to his captain, he will have you hung, drawn and quartered. I will happily place the rope round your scrawny little neck myself.”
“He is not king yet,” injected Tyler scornfully, “and if he were, it won’t be he who rules the country.”
A soldier punched Tyler in the stomach, as he swung back at the end of the blow, the noose tightened round his neck and he gasped for breath until his frantically scrabbling toes found the ground and steadied his weight. The man then turned to Parlan. “You, ‘Your Royal Highness’ should already be dead,” he closed his fingers round Parlan’s throat, making him squirm and choke for air. “But fear not, this time my men and me’ll be the ones to guard you. You won’t escape again, believe me lad. Take him back to the castle.”
With his hands bound, Parlan could not put up a fight. Two soldiers tied him face down over a horse and rode away, leaving Tyler and Nemeila to their fate with the rest of the troop.
From within the dense undergrowth, two blazing eyes watched the events unfold. They saw the soldier pull the girl from the horse and hoist her off her feet by her tunic. Rage welled up inside, until it could be contained no longer. Amber sprang at the one who had dared to manhandle his mistress; his terrifying snarls gave way to a husky growl as his teeth ripped furiously at the man’s throat. Nemeila collapsed to the ground, whereupon her beloved wolf straddled her legs protectively. He raised his head and a mournful howl split the stillness, as the echo of the call faded, dozens of wolves sprinted, panting and drooling from the undergrowth. They took the soldiers by surprise, all but two being torn limb from limb. The two who survived were badly bitten and would need a healer’s touch to stay alive. Some of the men who had been quicker to react had managed to inflict wounds on one or two of Amber’s comrades, but none were seriously injured, nothing a few loving licks from their mates couldn’t cure.
Nemeila had tears in her eyes as she hugged the big wolf close. She wept on his neck, as he stood patiently accepting her embrace. He had saved her life, she would be forever grateful to her mother, Ilanthia, in choosing him for her guardian.
She released the rope from Tyler’s neck. “Are you alright?” she asked, as he tested his neck muscles gingerly and rubbed the rope burn at his throat.
“I think so; at least I’m better than that lot.”
The wolves began to disperse back into the dense shadows of the undergrowth as Amber had no further need of their assistance.
“I cannot believe that we have got this close to the castle, battled our way past trolls, demons, and drunken bounty hunters, only for Parlan to be captured before we can put our plans into action.” He kicked out viciously at a stone and it flew from his boot and hit a tree close by.
“Tobyn will not kill Parlan,” said Nemeila, placing a comforting hand on his arm, “he knows we were with him, and I’m sure he expects us to try and rescue him.”
They recommenced their journey, this time Amber led the way, keeping a watchful eye and alert ear for any other dangers his human friends were not equipped to see or hear until it was too late. Emerging from the tunnel of trees, they saw the castle, its drawbridge had been raised and armed soldiers patrolled the ramparts. Nemeila wondered if Tobyn actually feared her, it seemed a lot of defensive measures had been taken for just one girl and boy. She also wondered what other tricks or ambushes he might have arranged. “With the drawbridge raised,” groaned Tyler, “there’s no way for us to enter. Is he planning to keep the castle under siege until Kaleb is crowned king? Or does he believe we’ll go away and abandon Parlan?”
Chapter 11
Unauthorised Entry
Darkness began to pull a curtain over the day, and still the soldiers lined the walls. From the cover offered by the trees along the path, they studied the wooden structure barring their entrance with mounting frustration.
“Even had the drawbridge been lowered,” mused Nemeila, “we couldn’t have just strolled into the castle grounds. The soldiers on duty have our descriptions and are obviously looking out for us; Tobyn’s no fool. I am afraid of meeting him, but I wonder if he fears me too. After all, we managed to foil his attempt to kill us at sea, and we escaped the demons he sent after us. Even his armed soldiers couldn’t stop us.”
“Is he simply a man who knows how to perform magic tricks, albeit sophisticated ones? Or is he more than that?” asked Tyler, slightly afraid of the answer she might give. “He is more dangerous than you can possibly imagine,” Nemeila raised her eyes to meet his. “I cannot tell you exactly who he is, or what he is, but although he may not look his age, he has had more than a few centuries to gather his knowledge and practice his art. We’re lucky, in a way that his powers were not stronger when he attacked the ship, or he would have succeeded in drowning us all.”
Tyler had always believed in the Gods; proof of their existence, as far as he was concerned, was the creature that had sent him to seek out the girl at his side. But it hadn’t occurred to him that it might be a god, or the closest thing to one, that they fought.
“I don’t care how old he is, or what magic he can or can’t do, I will not rest while my friend is in prison. If I have to die in the attempt to free him, then I will give my life gladly. But at least it will be an honourable death, knowing that I didn’t turn my back on him like a coward.”
Nemeila was touched by his sincerity and loyalty and reached out for his hand. “Then it looks as though we will die together, if we must. For I know for certain that Tobyn will not allow me to escape. He seeks revenge against my mother for his capture and for being stranded on an alien world, and my death will be the sweetest revenge he could desire.”
She studied the wall of the ca
stle across the surrounding moat and then as she raised her eyes higher, asked, “What is that circular hole roughly ten feet above the water level.
“I think that’s a drainage pipe. I remember when Parlan and I were playing as kids; we raised one of the metal grids in the lower passages and climbed down. That might be the opening that Parlan almost fell through.” Tyler smiled at the memory of one of the many pranks that had nearly got them into serious trouble
“If we could reach it, then we can get in without anyone seeing us,” said Nemeila, her eyes lighting up at the possibility.
“How do we reach it? Without boats or wooden supports to span the moat, there’s no way of getting across.” He scanned the opening, then the wall where it rose from the waterline. “There are no footholds in the wall and it’s covered in moss and slime at the water level. Even if we managed to float over to it, we couldn’t climb up to the opening.”
“But horses can swim,” insisted Nemeila. “I have seen men herding them and when they’ve been forced to cross a river, they swam across.”
Tyler considered Sox and a thought came to mind. “Do you think he would be able to carry both of us to the wall? If he could, and I lifted you up level with the opening you would be able to get inside.”
“But how will you get inside? It is too high to just reach up to.”
“If you can pull yourself up, then I can stand on Sox’s back and hopefully jump the distance.”
The Wolf and the Sorceress Page 16