Dark Lords of Epthelion Trilogy:Warrior Queen of Ha-Ran-Fel, A Dark Moon Rises, Castle of Blood

by Sandra Kopp

  “Stop it!” Charles hissed. “We knew the risk. They’re stalwart men, survivors all.” He glanced at the moon, now glowing upon them from outside its filmy curtain. “We face danger even without you. Courage, maiden. Be strong.”

  Merewyn slowly nodded, swallowing hard to stifle her hiccupping sobs. Charles helped her to her feet and onto drier ground. The ordeal had left her dizzy and faint. Her fingers stung. Her head throbbed. The saturated cape and jacket weighed heavily on her shoulders. Merewyn removed them and Charles laid them across the mare’s back, behind the saddle. The unfortunate hat had been taken by the river.

  Charles stared downstream. “The current took them south, so we’ll head that way and hopefully find them. The horses need to be walked, anyway.”

  Merewyn shivered. “It’s so cold.”

  “I know, but we have no dry clothing, neither dare we make a fire. Perhaps the walk will warm us. Come. Let’s see if we can find our friends.”

  For nearly an hour they walked. Thankfully no rock or debris littered the smooth sand. Dripping clothing and chilly night breezes, however, intensified their misery. Merewyn’s numbed feet cramped, and she vainly tried to will her knotting muscles to relax.

  Across the river, dark hills formed black voids against the starlit sky. Rippling waves lapped the shore. Lady Ashgard had calmed, appeased, it seemed, by the blood sacrifice just received.

  Merewyn eyed its deceptive placidity with disgust. Vengeful demon! How dare it devour her friends? Snarling, she spat into an incoming wave.

  Charles glanced back at her, his brows raised. “It’s only a river,” he said, turning forward again. “It does not intentionally commit murder.”

  “Why should I survive and the others perish?” she cried.

  “I believe they were carried downstream, nothing more. Now keep your voice low.”

  “I’m sorry.” Merewyn collected herself and hurried up beside him.

  “You have a destiny, Merewyn, so do not wish yourself dead. You may not believe it now, but. . .” Charles held up a hand and stopped. “I see something,” he whispered. “Let me go ahead. Stay a safe distance behind. If I tell you to run, jump on that mare and ride for all she’s worth.”

  “I will.” Swallowing hard, Merewyn waited until she could barely distinguish his form before stepping out after him.

  Something did move through the darkness. An indistinguishable figure crossed Charles’ path.

  “Ach! You’re alive!”

  Hans’ booming baritone made Merewyn forget her exhaustion. She broke into a run, dragging the startled mare after her. “Hans?”

  “Bless my soul! You’re a sight to gladden the heart,” Hans said as Merewyn breathlessly joined them. “The lads and I couldn’t decide where to look.”

  “You’re alive!” Merewyn gasped.

  “We are, after a fierce struggle,” Arris answered. “Two soldiers tailed us, but an eddy must have pulled them under.”

  “I feared you were dead!”

  “Well, bruised and bloody though they be, we have our skins. Now I wish only for dry clothes, hot soup, and a warm fire,” Hans said.

  “We have none of those, I’m afraid,” Charles returned. “Every stitch we own is soaked, we have no food, and we can’t risk building a fire. Our horses are spent. Soldiers certainly patrol the river. I don’t know any more will try to cross, but I wouldn’t wager either way.” He glanced around. “Let’s go into the trees and make camp, spread out our garments, and hope they dry by morning.”

  “Perhaps our garments can serve us even now.” Arris had already gathered sticks and begun fashioning a conical frame. “We’ll spread our capes and coats over this to dry. They’ll keep out the wind and allow us to kindle a fire, which no one will see through the heavy material. That should dry the clothes we have on and afford us a little warmth.”

  “Well said,” Charles responded. All joined the effort and soon erected a sizable cone. Hans lit a fire while his companions arranged their wraps on the frame around him. Then, exhausted, cold and hungry, they crawled inside.

  LIEDOR

  Charles Bordner opened his eyes and peered outside. From the sun’s position, he judged it to be around ten o’clock. He reached over and shook Hans. “Wake up!”

  Hans groaned. “Ach, man! Can’t a fellow sleep a while?”

  “It’s late. Time to go.”

  Their exchange woke the others. Arris reached outside and felt the capes covering their rude shelter. “A bit chilly, but they’re dry.”

  “Let’s be off.” Charles crawled outside and pulled on his coat. His companions filed out after him.

  “Do you propose to follow the river?” Arris asked.

  “Only a short way. We should turn north before coming too close to Brackenlea.”

  “It might be best to leave the river now,” Arris advised. “We may end up in Ha-Ran-Fel, but I would rather deal with the Horse Lords than with Mordarius’ soldiers.”

  Charles shook his head. “I think we’re safe keeping to the river a while if we ride inside the trees. As long as the river flows from the east, we’ll follow, but when it curves northeast, we’ll turn due north, putting us well away from Brackenlea and safely into Liedor.”

  Hans nodded agreement. “Sounds good to me. I doubt anyone else will want to cross Lady Ashgard any time soon. She’s still swollen from the storm.”

  Arris nodded. “Very well.”

  Late that afternoon, the Ashgard River curved northeast. The company journeyed north, not stopping to camp until well after dark.

  “We’ll light no fire again tonight,” Charles directed. “I calculate Brackenlea lies due east, perhaps close enough for a vigilant watchman to glimpse the flame and raise an alarm.”

  “No matter,” Arris returned. “We’ve nothing to cook and our wraps have dried. We’ll stay plenty warm.”

  Charles turned and gave Merewyn a reassuring smile. “Tomorrow by noon, my lady, we shall cross safely out of Valhalea and you can begin a new life.”

  Merewyn shook out her cape and folded it across her arm. “I’m grateful to all of you. You put yourselves at great risk to befriend me. I shall never forget this. I only wish I could do something for you.”

  “Perhaps you can someday,” Charles said. “One never knows what the future holds. Our paths may cross again.” He turned aside and rummaged through his pack, then rose abruptly and walked to the horses.

  Merewyn stared after him, her mouth opened as if to speak, but she closed it again, sat down, and gathered her cape about her.

  Arris quietly cleared his throat and removed his coat. “M’lady.” He folded the item and slipped to her side. “Come. Rest your head.”

  Her liquid eyes met his. “I couldn’t,” she whispered. “I’m warm enough, and you’ll need it later.”

  But Arris persisted, and she finally lay down and allowed him to place the coat under her head.

  “There. That’s better.” Arris smiled down at her.

  Merewyn smiled faintly and nestled into the warm material. “Thank you.”

  “Good night, m’lady.” Arris hesitated as if to say more but finally rose and moved away.

  “Good night,” Merewyn whispered, and wiped a tear from her cheek.

  Searing blue light and crashing thunder jarred them awake. Merewyn gasped and cried out.

  “Easy. ’Tis only a passing storm.” Charles slipped to her side and laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

  “We considered the last one only a ‘passing storm,’ and remember the ruin it left?” Hans sat up and squinted at the heavens, which again exploded into brilliant light.

  “There’s more going on than the storm.” Arris stood and stared toward the east. “Listen. Can you hear it?”

  His companions paused, and all heard the distant shouts amid the thunder and howling wind.

  Charles frowned. “Sounds like trouble in Brackenlea. Maybe soldiers. . .or maybe lightning ignited a fire.”

  “I see no
flames, but the city may lie beyond our sight,” Arris said.

  Charles drew a nervous breath. “We’re not safe in these trees. The open plain lies near. None of us can sleep anyway. Let’s put some miles behind us.”

  With dawn still hours away, they broke camp and resumed their journey. The angry clouds released a gentle rain. Lightning flashed incessantly, alternating between great sheets within the clouds to spectacular webs that, from a single point, snaked across the heavens in every direction.

  Arris rode ahead, his keen ears trained for sounds from the east. “It’s not terror of the storm I hear, but the noise of battle. There is fighting at Brackenlea.” He straightened. “I see the end of the woods. The border must lie very near.”

  Soon the forest gave way to wide open fields while the storm, its wrath spent, impaled itself on the distant peaks of the Mystic Mountains. The skyline lightened as the sun prepared to rise.

  Merewyn ached and could scarcely keep her heavy eyelids open. She shook off the stirrups and let her legs hang. Through the predawn darkness she saw the rolling grass-covered plain dotted with junipers and live oak marking the Liedoran border.

  They topped a rise, and the first golden rays broke over the horizon. Charles reined in, pointed ahead, and smiled back at Merewyn. “Breathe deeply, Merewyn. Savor the sweet smell of freedom!”

  Merewyn brightened. “Liedor?”

  Charles nodded. “We’ve caught up to the Ashgard again.” He gestured to a barely visible collection of buildings on the other side of the river. “Yonder lies Lemhill. We’ll continue on this side to Garris. It’s not far and will put more distance between us and Valhalea. I doubt Mordarius will invade Liedor just to look for you. Nevertheless, stay out of his sight. We’ll keep you with us until we reach safety.”

  He groaned. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I need a good stretch. I’ve been in that saddle so long my legs are permanently bowed.”

  “Good idea!” Davon dismounted.

  “I could use a good meal and a soft bed.” Hans awkwardly swung out of his saddle and lowered himself to the ground.

  “And a bath—please!” Arris smirked.

  Hans scowled. “If I could bend this stiff elbow, I’d wipe that impudent grin off your fair Nimbian face!”

  Arris laughed. “I speak for all of us, not just you, my fiery friend. Come, I’ll buy your breakfast when we reach town.”

  “Done!” roared Hans. He stiffened suddenly and stared toward the southwest. A band of horsemen had just passed Lemhill and now raced toward them.

  “Ride!” Arris commanded and turned his horse to meet their pursuers. His companions remounted and galloped away.

  Realizing Arris remained behind, Charles reined in and turned his horse. “What are you doing, man? Come on!”

  Arris fixed his stony gaze at the approaching riders. “These are simple souls. They’ll not cross the river, nor will they trouble us. They will turn back.”

  “How do you know?” But even as Charles spoke their pursuers circled around and returned to Lemhill.

  Arris smiled. “Another voice has summoned them to Brackenlea. They just don’t know it was mine.”

  Hans grinned and pointed ahead to a low hill. “Yonder lies our destination.”

  And none too soon, Merewyn thought. Her neck and shoulders ached, and her legs had stiffened to the point they felt almost wooden.

  Sweeping grasslands had become fertile rolling fields. Now and again one of the industrious farm folk paused to give them a friendly wave, and they returned each greeting, grateful to have reached safe haven at last.

  At length they topped the hill and began a slow descent. Merewyn’s heart leapt at the idyllic scene. Snuggled into a nest of trees along the west bank of the Ashgard River lay Garris.

  “A typical Liedor farm town,” Hans remarked. “Tidy and prosperous. Practical, too. Built by farmers to serve farmers. Everybody has his job.”

  Hans’ assessment described Garris perfectly. Immaculate homes surrounded a bustling business district. The roughly two thousand inhabitants served as blacksmiths, grocers, milliners, harness makers, apothecaries, or feed, seed and hardware merchants.

  Today it teemed with activity. Carriages and wagons, horsemen and pedestrians filled the cobblestone streets. Locals gathered on nearly every street corner to discuss crops or the weather, or to exchange a bit of gossip. Women wearing crisp white bonnets and gaily-colored frocks with aprons emerged from shops, carrying covered baskets.

  Merewyn felt a sting of jealousy. Life in Atwall had once resembled this but on a grander scale, and so long ago it seemed a distant dream rather than the reality of her early childhood. She edged the bay closer to Charles, discomfited by the stares their disheveled company elicited as they rode by.

  A jovial-looking man with a round red face and ample paunch stepped away from one of the groups and waved. “Charles Bordner! Hans Ogilvie? I don’t believe it!”

  Charles’ face brightened as he reined in.

  “I can’t remember when I last saw you two! What brings you here?” The stranger limped slightly, but he smiled broadly and extended his hand as he joined them.

  “Edwin Greene! It has been forever. We’ve been trading in Tashbuth. Planned to go to Atwall, but news of the unrest brought us here instead. We lost our wagon and wares in the storm, and very nearly our lives.”

  “Aye, that wreaked havoc, I hear. The storm spared us, but I understand it hit Valhalea and San-Leyon hard.” Edwin’s hazel eyes softened as he regarded the rest of the group. “Let’s not stand here gabbing. Every one of you looks like you could use a week of sleep. I’ll take you to my inn and give you each a room and some good hot food. We have a bath, too, and—”

  “You own an inn?” Charles broke in.

  Edwin’s eyes sparkled. “Aye! Bought it last year. Best thing I ever did, next to marrying a wonderful cook.” He laughed and patted his round stomach. Waving them forward, he cried, “Come along now. I’ll not take ‘no’ for an answer, and you know, Charles Bordner, how ill-tempered I can be when I don’t get my way!”

  “All right,” Charles laughed. “But we come as paying customers—understood?”

  “We’ll talk about it over dinner.” Edwin marched ahead, talking loudly about everything befalling him since his arrival in Garris the year before. Arris stole an amused glance at Hans and Davon who, fast succumbing to fatigue, could scarcely hide their yawns.

  They left the business district and passed through a scattering of brightly adorned cottages on the outskirts. Here the street curved eastward, overlooking the Ashgard River for a way before turning down a shaded lane leading to an imposing chalet-style structure nestled among three gigantic willows.

  Edwin stopped and proudly pointed. “There she is—Greene’s Willow Inn.”

  Charles gaped at the beautiful inn with its latticed windows, stained wood and well-kept grounds. “Edwin, you old soldier. You amaze me!”

  “’Twas time to settle down.” Edwin resumed a brisk pace that, despite his limp, propelled him swiftly forward. “A few more steps and you can rest those weary bones, which I know the lady in particular will appreciate.” He turned and gave Merewyn a beaming smile, and despite her exhaustion, she could not help but smile back.

  “Don’t worry, miss. My Emily will look after you like her own daughter. Not many maidens pass through Garris, so she’ll feel at last she has someone to fuss over—oh, she’ll take good care of you lads, too. Fortune blessed her with six strapping sons, but no daughters, and I think she would have liked at least one. Ah! There’s Emily now.” Edwin nodded toward the plump, pleasant-faced woman emerging through the front door.

  Emily Greene looked as jovial and round-faced as her husband. Indeed, one might have guessed them to be brother and sister rather than husband and wife, they so resembled each other. She quickly showed the weary party to three rooms on the top floor—one for Charles and Hans, another for Arris and Davon, and one for Merewyn herself. At jus
t past noon the mouth-watering aroma of roasting meat, hot rolls, and fresh-baked pie filled the house and set their empty stomachs rumbling.

  “Dinner’s all ready” she told them. “Wash up, and we’ll eat.” Singing cheerily, she bustled to the kitchen.

  Hans chuckled. “No wonder old Ed’s put on weight. I swear, a man could feed on the aroma alone! Maybe I should look for a place and settle down.”

  They washed quickly. Merewyn could have gone straight to bed without eating, but at Charles’ urging she made herself ready and followed the men downstairs.

  The Greenes’ table buzzed with lively conversation. Charles, Hans, and Edwin exchanged stories of earlier feats during their days as soldiers in the war against Barren-Fel’s previous tyrant, a ruthless but inept dictator named Sumak. Arris and Davon listened politely at first, but Edwin’s queries concerning their association with Charles and Hans quickly drew them into the discussion.

  Emily hovered over Merewyn, filling her plate and ensuring she had all she needed and wanted. Merewyn fought to stay awake, but as her stomach filled her eyelids grew heavier. By the time she swallowed her last bite of blackberry pie she could barely keep her eyes open.

  “Poor girl. You’re exhausted!” Emily cast a critical eye at Merewyn’s clothes. “I’ll bring you a nightgown. Then you settle in and have a good rest.”

  She rose and led Merewyn upstairs. “You can bathe in the room across from your bedroom. Everything you need should be there. If not, I’ll see that you get it.”

  Edwin grinned as his wife’s voice faded out.

  “Wonderful woman,” Charles noted.

  Edwin nodded. “I’m lucky to have found her, and even luckier to have kept her. She had three other fellows after her, all of ‘em better off and better looking than I ever was or will be.”

  He sobered and leaned forward to rest his elbows on the end of the long table. “Charles, I know there’s more to your tale than what you’ve told me. But you all look utterly spent. We’ll talk tomorrow, if you’ve a mind to; otherwise, I’ll not pry. In the meantime, rest assured of your safety here.”