by LeRoy Clary
Tater said to us, “We’ll use the road this morning, then head off on a little-used trail for the hills.”
“What if Lord Kent and Princes Anna sleep late and we catch up with them?” Kendra asked.
Elizabeth said, “Then we will ride on right past them, and we will not need Tater’s shortcut, but don’t count on that.”
“It won’t happen, will it?” My question was really a statement, and one I should have kept to myself because it almost repeated what she had said.
“Of course not. After seeing you, they probably rode well into the night, pushing their horses to the limit. Right now, my wager would be that they are also awake and preparing to ride hard all day to remain ahead of us.”
She was right. What I didn’t know was why they would do it? What was so important that they risked Princess Elizabeth’s ire to arrive before us? Princess Anna had made Elizabeth angry once already. Doing it a second time was ignorant.
CHAPTER NINE
I rode in the early morning chill on Tater’s left, a poor choice I soon regretted. That was the direction he spat most of the time. Telling him or asking him to spit in another direction wouldn’t break a lifetime of a bad habit, so I kept quiet. Each time he raised his head and made a disgusting gurgling sound, I prepared my magic to intercept or interfere with the path it was to take. By the time the sun warmed the morning air, he’d spat on his foot, the horse's leg, the ground, and once, with a little help from my magic, he’d hit a rabbit that darted across the road in front of us.
“Whoa, that never happened before,” he’d said with a whoop of pure joy as the rabbit twisted in mid-air from the phlegm-strike and changed direction. He glanced my way for approval and admiration.
My laughter was held inside, but only just. Elizabeth’s anger was directed at the back of my neck because of me using my magic for that, but I refused to turn and face it. That feeling had nothing to do with her lacking any magic powers. However, the next time he spat, I’d just let it strike his horse or the ground. I would protect myself from him, but barely, and hopefully undetected by Kendra. If a stiff breeze came up, could anyone be held responsible if one of Tater’s wads of spit reached someone riding behind me? I didn’t think so.
Springer walked alongside me most of the time. Now and then he trotted beside Kendra, but never Tater. Smart dog.
As predicted by Tater, we didn’t catch up with Lord Kent. We did find a place where it appeared two people had stayed the night, but we didn’t take the time to investigate. It was one of those things that didn’t cause major concern. They had either stayed there or not. We hadn’t caught up with them, so it didn’t matter. If they were intent on reaching Mercia first, there seemed little we could do about their actions.
Of course, that line of thinking didn’t include the turn to our right onto the secondary trail we followed in our attempt to reach Mercia first. I looked at the hills and mountains and picked out a possible route the trail might follow between two distant peaks. The flash of sunlight on the water in the valley far below drew my eyes, probably a river that cut between the steep sides.
Tater pointed ahead. “We have a couple of cold nights coming. Miserable, if it rains and we get wet. Last chance to turn back.”
Elizabeth spoke harshly, “Do you think we’re weak and pampered?”
“Yes.”
That was the wrong answer, and my shoulders hunched to protect my head in case she responded by throwing something his way. Her aim was never very good. Instead, she laughed long and hard. She said, “You have every right to think so. We may surprise you.”
“Not likely,” Tater muttered.
She laughed again, but to my ears, it didn’t sound like she enjoyed his second observation as much as the first. Kendra remained quiet, a hint to me. Beside us stood more oak, maple, and alder trees which later gave way to pine, cedar, and fir as we climbed. The air smelled fresher and colder.
We rested our horses several times. My Alexis hadn’t tired once. The horses purchased from the inn were rugged, smaller, and were older than I’d thought in the darkness of the stable. They tired easily, and their gait was noticeably slower. The innkeeper was surely laughing this morning. Maybe we would stop and visit him on the return trip. Maybe sell him his horses back—for more than we paid.
A flash of movement drew my attention. Huge black wings beat slowly as a dragon flew at treetop level. No, it was a wyvern, of course. I remembered the difference, and that true dragons no longer exist. From a distance, it was hard to count the legs or determine the size. However, as it turned its side to us, I noted the serpentine appearance, the elongated neck and the way the body was supported between the wings.
Slimmer, that was the word I’d searched for. Pictures of “real” dragons in books depicted them as heavier, stouter. Muscular, came to mind. The creature I’d watched disappear into the trees on the side of the mountain appeared more like a snake with wings.
The wyvern appeared again and rose higher into the sky, twisting and turning. It held something in its mouth. As it flew, it came nearer to us. Its route would pass right in front of the trail we followed.
It caught sight of us and started turning away to continue its journey, then looked back a second time, right at us. A small deer was clenched in its mouth, yet it tried to roar, as if in anger or fury. What emerged was a muffled cry. But it hated us. It turned and headed right for us.
Alexis reared, ready to kick the wyvern with her hooves. A packhorse broke free and headed for the nearest trees. Kendra and Elizabeth dismounted before they were thrown off. Tater spurred his horse after the packhorse, but I couldn’t tell if he was running away or chasing it. Springer disappeared and didn’t bark once. The dog impressed me more and more.
I remained in my saddle for some ungodly reason. Perhaps fear. Certainly not bravery. The wyvern dipped lower and flew directly at us, but as I watched its eyes, it was not looking at me. It was looking behind me—at Kendra or Elizabeth.
I wore my sword but carried a small knife in my right hand—as if either would do any good fighting a beast that weighed as much as all seven of our horses, and the four riders combined. It was as long as the hallway outside Elizabeth’s apartment. I sat on the horse and waited, my little knife in hand, my heart pounding.
It flew over us so low we saw the fear in the deer’s eyes. But the wyvern never changed its focus. It watched something behind me . . . and it growled deep in its chest, a warning it seemed, then it was past and flying away. It rose quickly and didn’t turn to examine us further.
Both Kendra and Elizabeth were trying to calm their horses. The packhorse bucked and tried to break the tether. I gave Alexis a few reassuring pats on her neck because she had stood solid in the face of fear.
Elizabeth tugged the reins until she had a measure of control and said, “May the trinity of high-gods show mercy. I’ve never been so scared.”
I leaped off my horse, my sanity returning. I looked to see what could be done to help and noticed Kendra already standing on the ground with her index and middle finger held together beside her leg, the other fingers curled. She pointed at her foot and glowered intently at me. She wanted to talk in private. From her expression, she wanted to talk now.
“What can I do?” My question was for both.
Elizabeth seemed to have things under control with her horse. Kendra released her horse’s reins as if it had pulled them loose. Freed, it bolted, bucked a few times, and ran down the slope. Kendra responded as if it had been an accident.
“I’ll get it for you,” My feet were already moving to mounting Alexis. Kendra reached her arm up for me to grasp as Alexis walked past her. In automatic reflex, I pulled her up behind me.
She said as she wrapped her arms around my waist, “It might take two of us.”
My mind was still stunned at the appearance of the wyvern, only the second sighting in my life, yet I understood that with the private-talk signal, Kendra had purposely released her horse. All tha
t meant she wanted to speak to me right now. I gave my horse my heels and charged after hers.
We caught up with it quickly enough. The horse had found a patch of tall grass and was eating its fill. Kendra slipped off Alexis’s rump and retrieved the reins and mounted her horse. She pulled up beside me. “That . . . that creature back there was looking right at me.”
She’d noticed the same thing as me. “Maybe it was looking at Elizabeth.”
“No. It was me!”
Her ashen face and flat tone revealed she believed what she said. It scared her. While compassion was not my forte, I said, “You can’t tell from an animal that big. It surprised all of us. We were all terrified. The only thing I could do was pull my knife out and get ready to battle it.”
She placed her two fingers together again, and this time pointed them at me—like a dagger. They didn’t tremble or shake. They were calmer and more controlled than I could manage. Her voice lowered and at the same time became intense. “It looked at me. Only me.”
There are times when the bravest man will back down from a slip of a girl. “Anything else?”
“It greeted me.”
I’d watched it, too, but hadn’t seen anything in its actions to call a greeting. The wyvern hadn’t waved or done anything else that would be termed a greeting. While considering how to ask for more information, I heard the pounding of hooves. Turning back to the trail, Tater was almost upon us to help find the horse we were supposed to be chasing. “We’ll talk later.”
She mounted and wheeled her horse and rode it back up the hillside until she reached Princess Elizabeth’s side. She didn’t look back at me once in her anger.
Tater and I rode together. He said, “We’ll see a lot more of the dragons when we get closer. The horses need to get over their fear.”
“What about me?” I asked. “And my fear?”
He laughed, thinking it was a joke. When we reached my sister and the princess, they were already mounted and ready to depart, but neither spoke. The packhorses were again tied together. Tater and we fell into our positions. We departed with the dog running at my side.
Kendra’s words haunted me. How does a flying wyvern greet someone? The word sounded positive, like hello, good to see you. That’s a greeting. So much had happened so fast I hadn’t even asked Tater about him running away if that’s what he did. He may have been chasing a packhorse, but I doubted it.
Tater took the lead again, and my horse followed directly behind—at a distance too far for him to spit on me. His hair hung in greasy strings, he smelled like five-day-old fish, but I was beginning to like him more and more. Despite his appearance, he kept a protective eye on Kendra and Elizabeth, anticipating their needs and calling breaks when they required privacy to pee or take a rest-break.
He didn’t talk except to convey information. That may seem like a small thing, but it gave me time to think as we rode, time to try and collect the relevant information and tie it together like Elizabeth did. She’d take two seemingly unrelated tidbits and combine them into one concrete fact. I often saw the same two tidbits—and they remained unrelated in my mind.
Under her tutelage, I was improving. My ears and eyes noticed more oddities, now. If a maid took a certain route from her workplace to her room daily, and she took a different route today, my mind went to work. She hadn’t taken the new route unless she had a reason and knowing that reason gave me leverage on her or someone she knew. She might be seeking her lover or delivering a message, or perhaps she knew where the cooks hid the best cheese.
That was the essence of palace intrigue. It was not what you knew, but what you could do with that information once it was in hand. Could you sell it for a future return of a better rumor? Could you bribe someone, or promise them a tidbit in return, or threaten them? Best of all, could you use the information to help someone important with their own intrigue, so that they were obliged to return the favor to you?
One of the most powerful phrases in the language is: Remember when I . . . for you? What it was, did not matter. Lay on a little recall combined with a touch of guilt and top it off with unspoken promises of what else you might know, and you had a stew that tasted rich.
While I’d been lost in thought, we had moved higher into the foothills. I looked behind and saw the wide valley with the inn, where the road crossed Cushing Creek. My butt was getting tired and sore. When we started up the next hill, I dismounted and walked for a while. Alexis seemed to appreciate not carrying me up the grade. She walked behind and snorted on my bare neck twice, a sure sign of her satisfaction and affection for me.
Yes, that was another convenient lie for me. Alexis didn’t snort when satisfied, but it made me feel better to think she did. At the top of the ridge, we paused. At an unspoken command, both women dismounted. Kendra took the reins of both horses as Elizabeth strode in my direction. Kendra came after me and held out her hand to take the reins of my horse, then she moved a few steps away, leaving Elizabeth “alone” with me. She wouldn’t snort on my neck either. The entire incident left me wary and apprehensive.
Kendra fell back six paces, the same distance I normally walked behind Elizabeth during formal outings. She remained close enough to hear us, but far enough away to stay out of the coming conversation. I was about to be manipulated again and could think of no manner of defense.
Elizabeth started walking faster as her legs loosened up and I fought to keep pace with her. She threw her arms wide and stretched in the cold mountain air. The actions were ones of comfort, friendliness, and ways to figuratively embrace me. It was the prelude to attempting flagrant manipulation. She had taught me well.
However, her actions had the opposite effect because of knowing what she was doing. My wide smile was intended to show I was buying into her performance.
“It is a beautiful day,” she said, throwing her head back and looking up at the sky to expose her neck, an unconscious sign of revealing complete trust—unless done on purpose to draw someone closer and build their relationship while readying them for the slaying. Farmers used the same technique in chicken coops. They never look at the one they’re going to have for dinner.
One of the horses behind me snuffled, and my awareness decided it was Alexis warning me to be careful. “Yes, it is,” I agreed with the princess.
“You are wearing your sword today.”
She had noticed earlier, of course, yet another might have asked why instead of simply making mention. Best to play the game with her. “There are unknowns in these mountains, and they make me uneasy. Being prepared to protect you is one of my duties.”
We walked in silence for a while. She gradually moved closer, more conspiratorially and intimate. My limp hand at my side almost brushed her leg. She said, “You attract the attention of many women, lately.”
The comment didn’t sound derogatory or critical. But now that she had eased my mind with her gestures and taken me into her confidence, she was getting to her point, one I didn’t see or understand, so this was no time to relax.
“From the women in the palace,” she said as if having to explain that to me. “They notice you.”
There. She said it. I attracted attention from women. My mind considered what she might mean by that. I believed myself reasonably handsome, my long hair and neatly trimmed beard were things of pride. My height was a bit taller than most men, and I was built slighter, which means I’m quick and agile instead of muscular. The Weapons-Master trained me in the use of weapons, so I could properly protect Elizabeth. He said my abilities excelled in the use of swords, bows, and fists. My punches were not as powerful as some, but my speed enabled me to throw more to compensate for that.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” my tone was purposefully puzzled.
“Your sister and I have been talking. We need to begin changing the perception of you in Crestfallen Palace from that of a scamp to a young man of quality so you can better serve in the higher rankings of royalty without raising eyebrows.”
That shut her up and hopefully ended the conversation. We continued walking through the evergreen forest in silence, but as we did, she drew slightly away from me, slowly edging away until she was a full step to my side. She wasn’t aware of it. While normally so intelligent and quick to grasp ideas, this time was different. She hadn’t thought it through, which was not like her. She was not embarrassed, but angry with herself. Her jaw clenched, her fingers curled into small fists, and worst of all, I’d been right, and she was wrong. I’d pay for that indiscretion at some point.
Simply because my character is that of a rascal and today I felt the desire to oppose her in a brotherly manner, I puckered in preparation to whistle a cheery tune in hopes of cheering her. My head turned to catch a glimpse of my sister and noticed her scowling at me. My lips suddenly felt too dry to whistle. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”
“You’re butting into my business, that’s what’s going on,” Elizabeth snarled.
She’d taught me to read meaning into posture and tones, beyond bare words. It was not anger she spewed but worry. The subject of me hadn’t bothered her at the palace, so the root was more recent. The only unexpected knowledge we shared came from Lord Kent and Princess Anna trying to race us to Mercia.
No, it was not that, or not precisely the race, but Lord Kent himself. He was five years younger than Elizabeth, and she had always known him as a petulant little boy she could make do most anything with a smile and turn of her chin. Now, he was almost grown and riding off to a strange city—with another princess. Elizabeth was fighting growing pains.