by Susan Faw
He had witnessed it all from the spot where he had hid when the slaughter had begun. Ryder had been running some errands for his father, the smithy, and had been sent down into the basement storage under the floor to fetch a small file for his father when he heard the commotion start. The door to the shop banged open as though someone had shoved it, hard. His father shouted out and began to argue with some heavily booted men and then scuffling erupted, the men crashing into a barrel. It either toppled over or was moved onto the trap door Ryder had gone down. In retrospect, he thought his dad shifted the barrel during the fight in order to hide the entrance from the men who were confronting him. His father was attacked and eventually dragged out into the square, but not before he had taken out two of the soldiers himself with his bare hands. It had taken three men to hold him, even while beating him.
Ryder had watched everything through a ventilation hole carved out of the framing under the porch steps. His father was the first used as an example of the cost of resistance. His throat had been slit in front of Ryder’s eyes. Ryder had screamed and screamed, but no one could hear him. Eventually he fell asleep, having screamed himself into exhaustion, curling up on the straw-covered floor in an old work shirt of his father’s, burying himself in a cocoon of his father’s scent. It was a full day later before the few surviving villagers who had escaped the guards initial search had located him, still curled up in his father’s oversized shirt in the storage room under the shop.
Ryder shook his head to dispel the sad memories. He grinned at Cayden. “I would like nothing better than to cause some havoc at their camp. Drink up and let’s get out of here before any of them come inside.”
They downed their beers and left through the back door of the inn, taking the hallway leading out of the rear of the common room.
Cayden and Ryder headed for the stables at the back of the inn. They opened the stable door and trotted through the dim interior of the barn. They exited via the wooden double doors at the rear onto a paddock which edged a rough lane leading back to the forest road. They followed the lane until they found the deer trail skirting the edge of the forest. Walking for about half a mile, they crested a hill and suddenly they spied the legion’s camp.
They ducked into the trees so they wouldn’t be spotted and slipped through the underbrush of silver leaf dogwood, keeping well-hidden in the leafy ground cover. Dropping to their knees and eventually their bellies, they crawled to the edge of the forest and stared.
The camp appeared to set out in squares. Each unit contained a series of ten tents, which surrounded an area in the middle where horses were hobbled.
Cook fires were set up every four squares, and men lined up to receive their evening meals served from a large kettle hung from a collapsible roasting rack. In the center of the camp was a larger tent, which was topped with the queen’s flag announcing the command tent. On the forest side of the camp, a row of pits had been dug into the ground. The latrines, Cayden thought from the smell emanating from the area.
“There must be three hundred or more men in that camp,” Cayden whispered to Ryder, turning his head. Ryder nodded in agreement.
“They don’t appear much older than us. Do you think they are all new recruits? I mean, would you settle in all comfy like that if you had been snatched away from your family recently?”
Ryder growled low in his throat. “I would never settle in. Try to recruit me and I would fight them with every fibre of my being. I would never stay.” He lowered his eyes. “They would end up killing me before I ever gave in. They are pigs!” He spat in the dirt in front of him to emphasize his words.
Cayden nodded his agreement. The very thought of being forced into the legion appalled him.
“I will never serve the queen. I will die first, by the gods, I swear it!” Ryder said his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles whitened under his skin.
“So…where do you think we should strike? I like our chances with the unit over there by the latrines,” said Cayden, attempting to lighten the mood. “They are trying to stay as far away from their post as possible probably because of the smell.” Cayden sniffed the air and pointed at the bored-looking soldiers stationed to their left at the base of the hill.
Ryder studied the latrines and then his eyes wandered over the hillside, scanning the perimeter of the camp. “Do you see any sentries? Shouldn’t there be some patrolling the area here too?”
“No…wait, yes, on the far side, inside the tree line.” Cayden pointed across the field to a man who was standing in the shadow of a cottonwood tree, bow in hand and arrow nocked but not drawn. “Can you see any more around?”
“No. Nervous bunch, aren’t they?” Ryder said. “Why post sentries in the daylight? Who is going to sneak up on them?”
“People like us, Ryder!” Cayden grinned. Ryder grinned back.
Suddenly, they heard a sound like metal sliding over metal above them, the sound of swords being drawn.
Rolling over, they froze in horror. Cayden sucked in his breath, and Ryder swore under his. Three men stood behind them, swords drawn and pointing at their throats. All three were Queen’s Guard scouts.
“I think we found the other scouts, Ryder.”
Thunder rumbled overhead.
Chapter 6
ROUGH HANDS GRABBED CAYDEN AND RYDER by their arms and pulled them to their feet. “Well what do we have here? It looks to me like we got us a couple of volunteers.” His two companions laughed. “So nice when we don’t have to go searching for them. It lets us get back to our gaming that much faster!”
“We are not here to volunteer,” Cayden said quickly. “We wanted to see what the camp looked like, that’s all.” Ryder nodded his head in agreement, keeping his gaze on his boots. He strained to control his temper. Panic bubbled in the pit of his stomach. He felt like a lit firecracker fuse. Ryder tensed against the two men holding him.
“I’m afraid that qualifies as volunteering, lad. Now get moving.” Rough hands shoved them in the direction of the camp. That was all it took. At the soldier’s touch, Ryder snapped. With a bellow, he swung at the man holding him, his ham-like fist connecting with the man’s right ear, knocking the soldier to his knees. Ryder kicked out with his right leg, sweeping the soldier’s legs out from under him. He fell into the second scout who was bowled over. The scout’s head hit a rock and he didn’t move.
Cayden swung around and grappled with the scout holding him, right hand grabbing his thick-whiskered throat and his left hand wrapped around the weapon-wielding wrist forcing his flailing sword above his head. Cayden squeezed with all his might as the scout struggled. The man’s eyes bulged. His grip on his sword weakened and it dropped to the ground. Cayden continued to squeeze, until the man’s eyes rolled back in his head. Cayden let the man drop. He did not want to kill him; he only wanted to incapacitate him.
Turning, he saw Ryder’s original attacker rising to his feet again. Cayden picked up the sword on the ground. He smashed the hilt of the sword down on the head of the strangled scout who was stirring and he crumpled back to the ground.
The last soldier advanced on Cayden, arms outstretched, wary of the blade in Cayden’s hand. Cayden shifted his weight from one foot to the other, nervously watching the scout. He had no intention of using the sword. What possessed me to pick it up? Cayden wondered as he adjusted his stance, as a malicious grin spread across the face of the scout.
“Drop the sword, little boy,” sneered the scout. “You will accidently cut off your own fingers, and then how will you fight? I promise you, if you continue this futile resistance, I will make sure you pay.” He looked around at his companions. “In fact, I think you are already in deep trouble. You do know the penalty for attacking a member of the Queen’s Guard? No?” His eyes taunted Cayden, noting the trembling in his arms. “Let me inform you. First offense is five years in prison in Cathair. I hear the rats are better fed than the prisoners.”
While the scout’s attention was focused on Cayden, Ryd
er scooped up a fallen scout’s sword. A bright red flush covered his neck and cheeks, the combination of fear and adrenaline causing a roaring in his ears. His eyes were wild, so wide open that the whites dominated and his nostrils flared as he sucked in huge amounts of air. Yelling, he launched himself at the guard, swinging wildly at him. The blade was heavy in his hand and he tripped over a body as he swung, nearly falling on the blade himself as he tumbled to his knees on the rocky ground. The guard laughed and ignored Ryder.
“Sit down, boy,” the scout said to Cayden, “while I dispatch this one. He seems eager to battle. I will deal with you in a moment.”
Still on one knee, Ryder watched the scout approach through a mist of anger. Panic seized him and with a bellowing roar, Ryder hoisted the heavy sword with both hands and swung it in an arc curving upward meant for the sword hand of the soldier. However, at the last minute, the soldier turned, and the upward swing of the blade instead found the meaty throat of the guard, slicing the man’s jugular. Ryder felt the momentary resistance as the sword caught in the flesh of the man’s throat, and then bright red blood sprayed out from the gash, pumped at an alarming rate by a heart that did not know it was doomed. The scout’s head flopped to one side and he tumbled to the ground.
Cayden stood stock still, watching as the man’s blood pulsed out onto the soil, darkening the stones as it spread out in a pool.
Ryder’s shocked eyes looked at the sword in his hand, slick with blood.
Cayden grabbed Ryder by the front of his shirt and pulled him. “Come on! We have to get out of here! Quickly!” he yelled. Turning, he ran back into the woods, as though the hounds of hell were on their trail. Ryder followed in equal haste, the swords in their hands forgotten in their panic to flee the scene of their skirmish.
They ran for roughly a mile, eventually joining up with the stream that had made for an ideal campground for the legion. Keeping to the water-slicked rocks along the edge, they headed up river toward Cayden’s farm. Lightning flashed and fresh rumbles of thunder were accompanied by the skies opening up. A heavy downpour followed them, soaking them from above, while the river took care of the rest. They left the stream about two miles past the Tiernan farm, dripping from head to toe and cut across the pastures Cayden knew so well. Cayden led Ryder to the cliffs by the sea and to a cave he had discovered long ago, a secret place known only to him and Avery, and now Ryder.
The cave faced the ocean and was hidden to any who did not appreciate heights. A rocky goat path was the only access and Cayden led Ryder along the outcroppings, showing him the handholds and footholds that were true in the rocky slide. The cave opening was a tall and narrow slit in the cliff face. When they entered, the bats that made this cave their home screeched and swooped around before settling back down to perch upside down from the cave ceiling.
“The bats are great sentries,” Cayden said, as he dropped to his knees in the egg-shaped room. The tall slit allowed enough light to see their surroundings in a twilight grey. Ryder collapsed down beside him on the cool rocks, gasping for air, swords clanking as they dropped them. Cayden groaned and rolled onto his back, staring at the roof of the cave. Ryder hung his head; his eyes squeezed shut, body still quivering with nerves and fright. I killed a man, Ryder thought to himself, shuddering with the memory.
Cayden reached over, grabbed Ryder’s shoulder and shook him. “Are you OK, Ryder?”
Ryder swallowed hard and opened his eyes. “I didn’t mean to kill him. I panicked, Cayden, and the sword was in my hands and I swung it. I didn’t mean to kill him, only wound him. Good lord, what have I done?”
He squeezed his eyes shut again and his big hands clutched at his head. “I was so scared! I was afraid to be taken,” he shuddered. “I was five years old again and trapped in that basement, helpless and terrified. I snapped.” His eyes opened again, regret shadowing in their blue depths.
“We can’t go back to the village. That much is obvious. They will be searching everywhere for us,” said Cayden. “I think they will round up everyone and will try to force them to identify who is missing. Ryder, I am scared of what will happen if the villagers resist.”
Ryder straightened up. “Then maybe we should go back to the village? If someone is missing and they cover for us, then the soldiers will burn the town again like before.”
Cayden plucked at a hole in his sleeve, thinking. “If we go back, they may find out it was us and capture us. Killing a Queen’s Guard is punishable by death. They could kill us instantly or, worse yet, force us into their army. If we return, Ryder, we will be giving them what they want. We can’t go back there now. It would be suicide.”
Ryder began knocking his head against the rock, groaning. “What can we do? We have to do something. Gods, what a mess!” They lapsed into an uneasy silence, thinking.
Suddenly, Cayden sat up and pulled Ryder up beside him.
“What if we were to volunteer now? No, hear me out,” he said holding up his hands as Ryder opened his mouth to protest. “What if we return to the village before they discover the guard’s death? Maybe it would throw them off the scent. They can’t know it was you, Ryder, who killed that soldier.”
“But how would that protect the town?”
“If everyone was accounted for at the beginning, then they might conclude the person they hunted was a soldier in their midst already or it was an outsider to the village who had slipped away. The town might be spared either way.”
Ryder idly picked up a stone from the floor as he thought over Cayden’s words. “But if they do think the murderer is in the village, why would they let everyone go?”
“Because their mission here is to recruit soldiers, not to avenge a soldier whose death may be the result of one of their own. They would have to look at all the possibilities and, who knows, maybe those scouts have some enemies. Maybe someone owes them some money. The one did mention playing cards; perhaps they cheated someone in a past village, and that person confronted them. They can’t know exactly what happened.” Even to his ears, the argument sounded weak.
Cayden sat for a moment, plucking at the tear in his shirt sleeve, thinking things over. “Only one of us need volunteer and I think it should be me,” he whispered and then shook his head when Ryder protested. “Listen, if I volunteer I can finally see some of the world, you know go on one of those grand adventures we always talked about.” He grinned at Ryder, brightening at the thought. “I have always wanted to visit Cathair.” He gaze lifted towards the bats in the cave, his mind imagining the trek to capital city. He felt an irresistible draw to the king’s city, which now housed the queen. “You know I have always talked of going there. But you, if you get sucked into that legion, you will never realize your dream of becoming a knight. You will never get away. They don’t recruit blacksmiths by the queen’s decree, so you are in the clear, even if they did discover you killed the guard. But that doesn’t mean they won’t take one that volunteers, and that service will be for life.”
“No, I would be soon dead if I was forced into that legion.” Ryder snorted in disgust. “Cayden, there is no king, so how can I be a knight anyways? It was only a childish dream.”
“It won’t always be this way, Ryder. You will see. Someone will overthrow the queen.” Cayden sighed. “So, it is decided. I will volunteer for the legion. With their quota fulfilled, they will leave town. And you, you must go back to the blacksmith shop. You are safe there. You are too valuable a resource for the queen’s legions.”
Ryder grabbed Cayden’s sleeve. “Cayden, don’t do this! We will think of another way.”
“We don’t have the time to sit here and plan, Ryder. With every minute that passes, we endanger the town. It’s the only solution I can think of. We have to give them a reason to leave, to look no further. If you can think of another plan, some other way to save the town, I’m listening.” Cayden looked hopefully at Ryder, and then as Ryder remained silent, the hope faded and his expression became somber.
Ryder‘s
sad eyes locked onto Cayden’s resolved ones. He shook his head. “I never meant for this to happen.”
“I know,” said Cayden softly. “Slip into the village by the back way and go home. Climb in a window so no one sees you returning. I will grab some clothes and supplies from the farm and make it appear that I was on my way to volunteer.”
Cayden got to his feet, brushing off his clothes.
Ryder rose to his feet and took his friend in a long fierce bear hug. Tears sparkled in his baby blue eyes. “You make sure you take care of yourself in there. Learn all you can. It will keep you alive. Try to get away in time. I will find you some day. You can count on it.” He grabbed Cayden a second time, crushing him, and then he exited the cave.
Chapter 7
QUEEN ALCINA TURNED THE CORNER of the corridor and walked briskly toward an alcove filled with bright sunlight, the stained-glass windows casting a distorted wave of colour across the tiled floor.
She pushed open a painted oak door that led to a little-used chamber, barely as big as a broom cupboard, used to store old carpets and tufting materials for repairs. She bypassed the clutter and passed through a curved opening in the back wall, which opened into a dark circular room with no windows and no doors.
“Great Mistress?” she whispered, peering around anxiously at the creeping shadows that lurked the corners of her vision.
Suddenly, the room filled with a heavy, oppressive presence. The little light remaining in the room fled and the darkness became complete. Alcina dropped to her knees, trembling as the presence filled the room, shutting out all other sounds.