King's Vengeance

by Ronald Coleborn

  “I need a moment alone, please.”

  “Of course. I’ll wait outside. But, princess—”

  “I won’t be long.”

  Sapient Breen bowed and left the room. He was lost in thought as he made his way downstairs and through the inn’s dining room to the front door. He stepped through the entrance and into the late afternoon to wait for his princess. What he saw outside quickly brought him out of his reverie and concentrated his mind. A band of ragged, shirtless warriors on horseback, with Sapient Lejrik at its head, had stopped in front of the inn. Breen spun around and dashed back through the entrance. He sprinted across the dining room, knocking over a man who had the misfortune of rising from his table at the wrong moment, and ran up the stairs. Redora was just entering the landing, about to descend. He grabbed her arm and pulled her down the hallway.

  “What’s happening?” she cried.

  “Militia outside. We’ll have to go out the back.”

  They ran to the end of the hallway, where a rickety staircase led to the kitchen, and went down the steps as fast as they could. Once inside the kitchen, Breen spotted an open back door, and they quickly made for it. They burst through to the outside and Breen looked around. To the right was a narrow alley that led to the street, an alley just wide enough for the horse that was coming through. Breen heard the rider call out to his comrades and saw the horse surge toward them. Frantic, Breen looked to his left and spotted a brick path that led through the inn’s vegetable garden. He pushed Redora toward it, and then snatched up a fist-sized rock that must have been unearthed when the ground was turned in preparation for the spring planting. He spun around and hurled it at the horseman, watched it smash against the man’s forehead. Then he raced after the princess.

  The garden path led to another street. They turned right and saw five horsemen enter the top of the street from a side alley. They spun around and sprinted the other way. Six horsemen appeared at that end, blocking the way. Breen spotted an alley and they made for it. It led back to a fenced-in yard and Breen swore.

  “There,” Redora said, pointing to a hole in the bottom of the fence. They scrabbled through it and sprinted through another yard until they came to a dirt path on their left. They turned onto it and kept running. They were out of the village now and running through another big garden, heading for open farmland. Breen swore under his breath. They couldn’t outrun horses, and there was no place to hide.

  “Why don’t you try the invisibility trick as before?” said Redora.

  “I can only hold it a short time,” Breen replied. “And it requires a great deal of concentration, which I cannot apply at the moment.”

  “There they are,” he heard someone shout from behind.

  Within seconds the ground was shaking under the hoofbeats of twenty surging horses. Breen heard the sound of wood splintering as the beasts bolted into the garden, smashing the trellises at its entrance. He looked over his shoulder and saw that they had only seconds before the lead riders would overtake them.

  “Redora, close your eyes!” he shouted, and then he rounded on their pursuers, waving his hands. A series of bright bursts shot from his fingers toward the riders, and the horses reared up, whinnying frantically and throwing nearly every man.

  Breen ran to the nearest horse and mounted it. He wheeled around and galloped toward Redora, bending low and reaching out his left hand as he approached. She grabbed his hand, and he swung her up and behind him. He slowed for a moment as she settled herself on the horse, and then he pressed his heels into the horse’s flanks. The steed took off in a gallop.

  They continued down the path through a dense copse of trees at the edge of the garden, which brought them to the road south. When Breen looked over his shoulder again, the rest of the riders were in pursuit. High above, three winged creatures wheeled in the sky.

  The spice wagon rolled slowly along the rough path toward the road that led north, Seyalinn at the reins, Quarvik strapped to her back, motionless and silent. Jerreb had insisted on seeing the woman and her son to the main road, a well-traveled thoroughfare that promised safety, and he and Sendin had taken positions on either side of the wagon, providing a knights’ escort, paltry though it was. Ellerick and Ghendris had ridden east, toward the Port of Ryseland.

  “I can see the road,” said Sendin, who was anxious to push on. “Another short stretch and you’ll be on your way to Pembrick Hollow.”

  “We’re not going to the Hollow just yet,” said Seyalinn. “Quarvik has told me of another plan.”

  Sendin shook his head and snorted. “More dreams, eh? And you’ll keep holding to them, I suppose.”

  “What plan is this?” asked Jerreb, who rode on her left.

  “You two have a mind to race toward the Freelands, leaving behind the quest that was laid out for you. What do you care of plans that involve the fate of the realm?”

  Jerreb’s jaw tightened. “I’m not chasing after idle whims, woman. My wife has been taken, and I mean to get her back. Your son’s dreams and visions are something of a wonder and may very well be helpful in countering our enemies, but I can’t think on that now. I have a more pressing matter to attend to.”

  Seyalinn turned her head to the knight and narrowed her eyes, boring into him with an intense gaze. “Do you doubt what you have seen? The vision of your settlement being pillaged. The siege of High Court?”

  “Doubt isn’t at issue,” Jerreb said. “The truth of the matter is that until I get my wife back, or at the very least do my all to attempt to rescue her, I care not a whit what becomes of the realm. My life is wound up in the woman those savages have run off with. That is all.”

  Seyalinn turned away from him and gazed at the road ahead, which was not far now. “Say what you will, Sir Jerreb. Your fate is bound to the realm, and no matter where your horse or your legs take you, you’ll be steeped in its business. Of that I’m certain.”

  “There it is, wild notions from you and mysterious prattle from your son,” said Jerreb. “I’ve not known you two more than two days, and already I’ve had my fill.”

  “You’ll see our words fulfilled very soon, Sir Jerreb,” Seyalinn said. “My son has never been wrong.”

  When they came to the road, Sendin led his horse up the side slope, as the path was too narrow to accommodate the three abreast. “This is where we leave you, miss,” he said as the wagon entered the road.

  “May the Ancients go before you,” Jerreb said to Seyalinn. “Fare you well.”

  “I hope you find what you’re after,” Seyalinn shouted as Jerreb and Sendin rode off. “Because if you don’t, it will have been for naught.”

  Whether the two knights heard her words, she didn’t know, because they never looked back. Moments later they rounded a bend and disappeared behind a cluster of trees.

  The crowded market square of Kaypha’s Landing was alive with activity as Queen Klienne and Bevin entered it from the sea side. Outdoor tables were piled high with slabs of freshly butchered meat and piles of fresh produce, and sturdy men were pushing carts laden with exotic fish and mollusks that had just been unloaded from fishing boats moored to the nearby docks. Scores of smells filled the square, and a hundred conversations competed with the din of hammers as workmen hurried to repair stalls or shops and men in leather aprons pushed their work carts along the streets.

  “Fresh cod,” one man cried out from behind a table standing in front of a wall. “Get your fresh cod here. Salted, dried, or smoked, fresh cod here.”

  “Freshwater crays,” cried another man, three tables down. “Carp, trout, pike. Get ’em here, folks.”

  As they walked quickly through the market square, a grinning fishmonger leered at the queen and said, “I have something to warm that cold, pretty mouth of yours, fair miss.”

  Bevin stopped short and turned to the man, but the queen put a hand on his arm. “Never mind,” she said. “Just take me to Maegor’s friend.”

  Bevin nodded, and they crossed to a large brick bu
ilding on the north corner of the square. “Maegor’s friend is there,” he said, pointing to the entrance. As they made their way toward it, they passed a row of fruit stands displaying a bounty of fresh apples, mountain plums, and colorful sweet citruses known as firesaps, behind which stood a pair of pretty girls who were between the ages of the queen’s daughters. They curtsied and smiled, but the queen walked past them into the building.

  Inside, men unloaded carts and carried barrels and baskets full of goods to wooden shelves stacked high along one wall of the structure. Others descended a spiral staircase that climbed up through the ceiling to another level and wound into the floor to a sublevel.

  “A storehouse,” the queen said.

  “Yes,” said Bevin. “This way.” He walked to the stairs and began making his way down. “He’ll be fussing with the long storage goods by this time.”

  The queen followed him down.

  “Mister Dellip,” Bevin said when he reached the floor. “I hope I’m not intruding at this hour.”

  A tall man in wool work clothes turned his attention from the open barrel he was rummaging through to peer up at the boy over bone-rimmed spectacles clamped to his nose. “Bevin, what brings you this far west?”

  “Nothing good, Mister Dellip,” said Bevin, who glanced toward the queen as she stepped forward. “I’ll have you meet the queen of the Glyssian Realm. Queen Klienne, she is, in the flesh.”

  Herrin Dellip scrunched his face as he adjusted his spectacles to get a better look at the woman standing before him.

  “I came all this way to beg your help in a hard effort,” said Bevin, as Herrin continued to gaze at the queen in disbelief. “Mister Dellip?”

  “Aye, son, I hear you,” Dellip said, finally taking his gaze from Klienne. “What’s this hard effort you speak of?”

  “Perhaps I should let the queen explain,” Bevin said.

  Dellip turned once again to Klienne, still looking at her as if he couldn’t quite believe a queen was standing in front of him.

  “Mister Dellip, I hear you have ties that go up to the vassor himself,” said the queen.

  “Quite right, your grace, I do, indeed,” said Dellip. “But please, call me Herrin.”

  “Herrin, you’ve a chance to do your land a great service this day. I ask you to take me to the vassor.”

  Herrin nodded. “I’m honored to be asked. I’ll see to the preparations immediately.”

  Sapient Breen spied Heth Village in the distance and prayed that they might find help there. His horse was nearly spent, and their pursuers were gaining on them. He entered the road that led to the main street of the village and gave the reins another shake. His horse galloped into the village without slowing down, and women and children scattered like roaches as the horse sped past. Breen looked over his shoulder and saw the lead marauders trailing behind and closing in. He glanced up and saw the winged creatures descending.

  Breen knew the marauders could have killed them both with arrows by now, which meant that they wanted to take the princess alive. It struck him that if she weren’t sitting behind him, he’d most certainly be dead. Most likely, he’d be dead soon enough.

  Breen looked behind him once more and saw one of the winged lizards tucking its wings back as it dove toward them. He squeezed his heels against the horse to spur it on, but the beast was near exhaustion and could run no faster.

  “Brace yourself!” Breen called out.

  The princess looked back and shrieked as she saw the lizard spreading its wings to catch the air while it reached down toward her with black claws attached to scaly forelimbs. Breen veered left, and he and Redora ducked low as the beast glided overhead, missing them by inches.

  Breen looked up and saw the underbelly of the beast, its outstretched wings blotting out the sun as it rose on the wind. He looked behind him and saw the Marauders keeping pace not far behind. Ahead of them the main street ended in fog, beyond which lay a field that opened onto the vast Eastern Plain. If they could make it past the plain, they could strike through Bokrh Forest and try to conceal themselves among the trees. It wasn’t much to hope for, but it was all they had.

  “What’s that up ahead?” Sendin asked as he and Jerreb rode across Eastern Plain toward Bokrh. A band of Dremsan savages was in swift pursuit of a horse carrying two riders.

  “Plainsmen after their usual sport,” said Jerreb, as he eyed the chase moving across their path in the distance.

  “Shall we lend aid?” asked Sendin. “Looks to be about twenty of the brutes.”

  In answer, Jerreb unsheathed his sword and spurred his horse into a gallop.

  “I figured as much,” Sendin muttered as he reached for his own blade and took off after his friend.

  As the two knights bolted toward the savages, four of them peeled away from the pack, letting loose a series of shrill battle cries as they charged. A split second before the two groups met, Jerreb swerved left and Sendin swerved right, each man swinging his sword at the nearest adversary as they swept past, unhorsing both. Suddenly the contest was two against two, but the Dremsans’ blood was up and they wheeled around for another pass. But Jerreb and Sendin had already turned and begun their charge, and the savages barely had time to raise their heavy axes and swing them wildly as the two knights came on. Jerreb put his sword in his left hand as he charged straight at one of the savages. As he raised his sword hand, he signaled his horse to veer left and then right. The Dremsan tried to swing his axe across his body, but the feeble blow was hopelessly inept, and Jerreb, unscathed, took off the man’s head with a single blow.

  Sendin had unhorsed his man and was hacking at him with his sword. Wounded and bleeding, the Dremsan dropped to his knees, and Sendin thrust the point of his sword into the man’s throat and out the back of his neck.

  The two knights quickly dispatched the two savages they’d unhorsed and then gave chase to the rest of the company. They quickly caught up to two savages bringing up the rear and slashed at them from behind, quickly felling them. Two more stragglers soon fell to their blades, leaving a dozen more. But the company was breaking up in disorder, some continuing their chase, others turning to the battle taking place at their rear. Five of the savages spread out to challenge the two knights, shaking their axes and rusty broadswords in the air.

  As Jerreb and Sendin prepared to meet the charge, a shadow passed overhead, quickly followed by another, and then a third. The two knights peered up at the sky and beheld three of the winged lizards they had first spotted over High Court.

  “What fresh hell is this?” said Jerreb.

  “I’m beginning to think this isn’t a fair fight,” Sendin added.

  “Spread out,” Jerreb said, moving his mount sideways.

  As the lizards wheeled around and began to circle above the knights, the five savages confronting them spat and then turned back to the chase.

  The three lizards tightened their circle and descended to treetop height.

  “Look lively, mate,” Jerreb shouted. He shifted his sword to a horizontal position, the blade poised to strike.

  Sendin released his reins and clutched his sword with both hands. The lizards formed up, one in the lead and one on each of its flanks. As they glided toward the two knights, the leader raised its head and beat its wings to carry it skyward again. The other two held course, each one heading for a knight. Jerreb thrust his sword at the approaching lizard and drew blood from its forelimb, but the beast knocked him from his courser before climbing into the sky, shrieking horribly as drops of its blood rained down.

  Sendin waited till his attacker was directly overhead, and then he pressed his feet against his stirrups and tried to make himself as tall in the saddle as he could. As the beast lowered its ugly head and attempted to butt him and throw him from his horse, Sendin crouched and thrust his blade up into the belly of the beast. The creature shrieked and thudded to the ground, where it tumbled and rolled, crushing the life from its rider.

  Jerreb had climbed back ont
o his horse, and he and Sendin took off again after the plainsmen. They resumed their attack on the rearmost riders, who hadn’t expected to be harried again after the lizards joined the fight. The two knights picked them off one by one until they had reduced the company to seven. The marauders broke off the chase and turned their attention to the two men beleaguering them.

  “Hold up,” Jerreb called to Sendin. “Regroup.”

  Sendin raised an eyebrow. “We’re a mighty small group to be regrouping,” he muttered.

  They spread apart, but six plainsmen soon had them surrounded. The seventh man, wearing the red and black attire of the sapient order, backed his horse away from the scene of the imminent fight. “Destroy them!” he commanded, and the six swept toward the knights.

  Jerreb and Sendin met the charge, swerving right and left, switching weapon hands as needed, maneuvering their steeds as if they were part of them. Each cut down a foe, and now only four were left to deal with. Jerreb bent low and charged, holding his sword like a lance and skewering a savage like a hunk of beef. The man fell backward from his horse and Jerreb plucked out his sword and slashed at a plainsman who had wheeled around to strike him. As he slashed, he cut off the arm that was ineffectually wielding a chipped axe. The man screamed, and Jerreb slashed at his neck.

  And then it was over. Only the sapient remained. The knights moved toward him, blood dripping from their blades. The sapient stood his ground and held out his hands in a curious fashion, his expression hard. A shrill scream sounded, and all three men turned to it. In the distance, the two riders who had led the savages on a desperate chase were picking themselves up from the ground. Their horse had collapsed under them.

  The sapient turned back to the two knights and reached for his sword. Before it was halfway out of its scabbard, Jerreb’s blade had pierced his chest. The sapient’s jaw dropped and his face went white. Jerreb gave his blade a hard twist and then drew it out. The sapient gasped and fell from his horse. He was dead when he hit the ground.