by Jordan Baker
“I’ll leave your things out for you tomorrow,” she said. "And you're more than just some boy from the country," she added, then she fell fast asleep.
*****
Out in the darkness, a shape flitted from the shadows and a man appeared in the trees near the camp. The guard on watch was just finishing his rounds when a hand covered his mouth and a knife appeared at his throat. A voice hissed in his ear as he was led away from the camp.
“A lovely night don’t you think?” whispered the voice as the attacker removed a hand from his mouth.
“Perfect, but for the moon and the stars,” the surprised soldier stammered back, keeping his voice low.
“Good,” pronounced the voice and the arm released him. The soldier took a step and, in the darkness of the trees he could see the figure of a man wearing a long, black hooded cloak that concealed his face. "I have a brief message from your king," the man continued. "You will proceed as planned in three days, once you have reached the south Kandaran pass. Once it is done, you will return and report to his Majesty immediately.”
“Yes sir,” the soldier said quietly. “You’ve been following us?” The soldier had been on rear guard and had not noticed anyone on their trail.
“In a manner of speaking, yes. How many are there in the party who are not part of the plan?” he asked the soldier.
“Three, and the Captain, sir.”
“The Captain. Yes, I had heard there was a change," the shadowy man commented.
“Princess ordered it, sir. Couldn’t be helped.” The man frowned.
“Tell me about him, can you deal with him?
“Yes sir. He’s young, fresh from the Academy. Seems like a nice enough lad, too. It’s a shame but he shouldn’t be a problem. He’s taken ill with a fever, been unconscious for three days.”
“Good, then gather the others and plot your attack. If anyone stands in your way, kill them, no matter how ‘nice’ they are. You will be well rewarded by his majesty," the man in the cloak said. "Here are some things you will need.”
The cloaked figure dropped a bundle at the soldier's feet then turned and disappeared quickly into the trees as silently as he had come.
*****
Cerric strolled through the corridors of the palace, admiring the giant stones and towering columns that had been built by many kings past. He smiled to himself knowing that soon, it would all be his. Word would not come for several days yet, but he eagerly awaited the news that would make him the true king of Maramyr and he smiled thinking about the day of his coronation and how glorious it would be.
He would be king. That much was certain. And as king, he would need an heir, if not a queen. He wondered who would make a suitable bride and thought of the dark-haired Xallan queen. Perhaps there might be something further to negotiate with the Xallans. Calexis would surely make a fitting bride for the king of Maramyr and Cerric could not imagine that she would turn down an opportunity to expand the strength of her empire. Calexis was set to leave Maramyr for her home in Xalla-prime the next day and he had scheduled one further audience with her. Perhaps being king was not enough. Cerric's thoughts moved on to wonder what kind of coronation might be appropriate for an emperor.
As Cerric neared the chambers occupied by the mage-priest Dakar, he heard a murmuring coming from behind the heavy doors. Curious, he pushed them open and walked into the mage’s outer chamber. Devoted primarily to books and desks, the room led to another door from which the voice Cerric recognized as Dakar’s emanated. He pushed at the inner door and found it locked.
“Dakar,” Cerric said. “Dakar, open up! It is Cerric, your king.”
Cerric knocked on the door but there was no answer and the murmuring continued. He persisted, hammering his fist on the door and he called out to the mage to answer but there was no response. Cerric frowned. Dakar would have some explaining to do when he was finished whatever fell magic the priest was practicing. To not answer a king in his own castle, it was simply unacceptable. Cerric left the mage’s chamber, irritated. There would be some changes at Maramyr once he wore the crown.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Aaron awoke to the bumping of the wagon on the mountain road. He was wrapped in blankets and he did not notice at first how cold the air was. He propped himself up on a cushion, glad that his strength was returning, and finding his clothes folded next to him, he pulled them on. His sword was wrapped in his coat and he let the scabbard lie on the bed as he pushed his arms through the sleeves. Tired from moving, he slumped onto a cushion for a moment. He felt so weak and awkward being carried in the wagon but it would have to suffice until his strength was fully restored. The humming noise in his head had subsided for the most part, but Aaron could feel it, always there, like a kind of pressure from the inside of his skull. Maybe it would help to move around a little.
The flaps of the covered wagon were loose in the front and Aaron pushed one aside slightly. It was already late in the day and the grey afternoon sky had begun to drop heavy flakes of snow, adding to the thin layer of white that already covered the ground. Ahead of the wagon, rode Ariana and five of her guards. A wheel bumped off a rock and Aaron smashed his elbow on the edge of the wagon and repositioned himself, sitting up properly. With a better vantage point, Aaron could see that they were making good time. The road forked and the left trail took them through a snow-covered pass that was bordered on one side by a rock cliff and the other by thickly forested incline that may as well have been a cliff. Aaron pushed himself around to the back, hoping to get a better view of which way the high trail went, supposing it was likely the way northward through the mountains to Kandara.
Expecting to see the other four guards, he was surprised when he found nothing behind the wagon but his own horse following on a lead tied to the back of the wagon. Aaron wondered where the other guards had gone. Perhaps they were scouting, he surmised. He opened the front flaps of the wagon. Seated ahead of him was one of the guards, holding the reins and driving the wagon.
“Where is the rear guard?” Aaron asked him, squinting in the bright light.
“Scouting ahead,” the soldier answered gruffly, without turning.
Aaron felt a twinge in the back of his neck. He thought at first that his headache might be returning, but this was something else. Something was not right.
“Stop the wagon,” Aaron said to the man. The man did not respond. Aaron tapped on his shoulder and repeated himself. The man shook his head.
“Sorry sir, can’t do that,” he said, not even turning to look at him.
“I order you to stop the wagon here and get the princess,” Aaron told him, this time more forcefully. The soldier turned and glanced at him, then like lightning, the man's elbow swung around toward his face.
Aaron ducked, but the man's arm caught the side of his head and knocked him sideways. Aaron got up from the wagon floor and saw the man hook the reins on a wooden peg and turn to face Aaron with a knife in his hand.
“You’re in no position to be ordering anyone anything, Captain,” the man sneered as he hooked the reins onto the wagon and turned to face Aaron. He held a knife in his hand and Aaron barely managed to fall back into the wagon as the man swung it at his face.
Still feeling a little weak, the fall had knocked the wind out of him. He looked up to where his attacker was now stepping into the back of the wagon. Aaron gritted his teeth and levelled a kick at the man’s shins. The soldier yelled and tumbled toward Aaron, knife slashing at him as he fell. Aaron caught the man’s arm and twisted the knife free. Clutching the knife, he rolled and slashed at the soldier, catching him on the side of the neck. The man clutched at the gushing wound and Aaron took the opening to plunge the knife into his side, between his ribs, killing him instantly. He snatched up his sword from the floor of the wagon and hurried to the front of the wagon and grabbed the reins.
The party was approaching a dark stand of trees that led up a ridge to the right of the trail and Aaron was about to call a halt when an arr
ow flew from overhead and hit the guard next to Ariana. As the man tumbled from his horse, blood spattering the snow beside him, Aaron saw that two of the soldiers had fallen back and were clear of the arrows that were now targeting the princess and the other three men riding with her. Someone was shooting from a ridge above the trail just ahead.
Ariana ducked as an arrow whipped past her and spurred her horse to a gallop. She glanced back at Aaron and was relieved to see that he had awakened and did not seem to be in any immediate danger, except for the arrows that were now flying fast from the trees. As she looked back, she saw the two soldiers who had fallen back were now drawing their swords but something was off about the way they looked. The men's eyes were not looking to the trail ahead or the source of the arrows. Instead they were staring directly at her and the two remaining men who rode with her, and the looks in their eyes were murderous.
Behind, Aaron snapped the reins, urging the horses faster to keep up with the princess who was now running her horse at a full gallop, the four sets of hooves pounding on the hard-packed dirt under the thin layer of snow that covered the road. An arrow hit the wagon, embedding itself in the heavy wooden boards. Aaron noticed that the arrows were not the usual ones he had seen through the kingdom. They were longer and fletched with feathers he did not recognize. The head was also made of a darker-looking metal than usual. The arrows were of Kandaran make. Why would the Kandarans be attacking them? Aaron quickly realized that it might not be Kandarans shooting at them, but someone wanting it to look like the Kandarans were behind the attack. He saw another arrow speed by the princess, narrowly missing her. It would be safer if she could slow her horse and ride beside the wagon, which would give her some cover, but the other two soldiers were in between her and the wagon. Thankfully, they were now engaging the two soldiers that had stayed with Ariana.
"Fall back!" Aaron yelled at her the next time she glanced back at him. Another arrow whistled by her and a second one took one of the soldiers in the leg. Ariana pulled on the reins and slowed her horse just in time to avoid an arrow that would have hit her otherwise. Aaron snapped the reins again, urging the horses faster, catching up. She was beside him now and Aaron reached out to her just as an arrow buried itself in the chest of her mount. She grabbed for Aaron’s arm and he pulled her to the wagon as the horse fell behind them.
“What’s going on?” she yelled over the wind and snow that whirled past. Aaron shook his head.
“Hold on!” he yelled as he snapped the reins harder. The arrows had finally stopped but Aaron spotted a group of riders emerging from the forest from where the attack had come. The men were cloaked, but he could see they were wearing Kandaran style clothing. He recognized the tight-fitting and fur-lined jackets and hints of purple mixed into the black of their outfits, but he also recognized that the horses they were riding belonged to the four soldiers missing from the party. From their builds, and the way they rode, Aaron knew it was the same four men.
It made sense. Attack the princess using Kandaran colors and weapons so it could be blamed on the northern kingdom, and in case there were any unexpected witnesses, the story would be even more authentic. Since Aaron knew the attack was by Maramyrian soldiers, the princess' own guards no less, he surmised that the plot against her had come from her own kingdom, and it was likely that her own uncle was behind it. He put such thoughts aside and focused on the situation. There would be plenty of time to figure things out later, if they managed to survive.
The two men still fighting from atop their horses ahead of the wagon had lost speed and the wagon was now catching up to them. Aaron could see that the one remaining soldier, the one who had continued defending the princess when the others had attacked was Grant, the man with whom he had spoken on the first day. He was bleeding from several cuts but he looked to be getting the better of his opponent and Aaron watched as Grant managed to stab his sword into the other man's midsection, knocking him from his horse. Grant looked back at the wagon and saw that Ariana was safely aboard with Aaron at the reins. He pulled back and fell in beside the wagon.
"Sir," Grant called from atop his galloping horse.
"Good work, Grant," Aaron told him. "We've got four more coming in from behind."
Grant followed Aaron's glance and saw the riders who had now made it to the road and were fast approaching the wagon from the rear.
"Keep the princess safe!" yelled Grant and he pulled away from the wagon, falling back to engage the group of attackers. Aaron glanced back through the open flaps of the wagon at the princess, who had climbed into the back and was now fitting a bolt to a crossbow. He saw his swords lying wrapped in a bundle on the floor of the wagon.
"Princess," he called. "My swords." Ariana looked up at him, and then she spotted the bundle that held his blades. She picked it up and handed it to him, then ducked back into the wagon as he unrolled the leather wrap and buckled his sword belt around his waist.
Behind them, Grant circled back and engaged the four men, pulling one of them away from pursuit of the wagon. Aaron could see that they were now fighting from atop their mounts and were no longer riding at speed. Meanwhile, the other three remained in pursuit and were closing in fast.
Ariana unlashed the heavy canvas flap at the back of the wagon and saw the three approaching riders. She took aim with the crossbow, steadying herself as best as she could as the wagon jostled underneath her feet. She fired a bolt and it nearly struck one of the men. Cursing the wagon for moving so much, she reset the crossbow, pulling at its string until it clicked into place, then she loaded another bolt. The riders were almost on top of her now and she fired, this time, aiming for one of the horses.
It struck the horse square in the chest. The animal reacted violently to the pain, twisting around and falling, taking its rider with it, clearing a path of blood and mud on the snow-covered road. Ariana felt a moment of regret for the horse but, given the circumstances, it had been necessary. She looked at Aaron's horse that was still tied to its lead and being pulled along by the wagon. She grabbed a sword that was strapped to the inside of the wagon and used it to cut the horse free.
Ariana ducked as one of the men swung at her, his sword slashing through the wagon's canvas cover and biting into one of the wooden posts. The princess tried to swing her sword at him but from inside the heavy cloth cover of the wagon, she had little room to maneuver. She pulled a small blade from underneath her bodice and launched it at the man. He knocked it aside with the heavy leather bracer strapped to his forearm. The man swung at her again and Ariana barely managed to evade the sharp steel as it slashed at her again. She held the sword up in front of her and did her best to block the man's swings.
Aaron looked back and saw the princess trying to fend off one of the soldiers. He also saw the other rider moving up beside the wagon. He readied his sword and was preparing to defend from an attack when he noticed that the man was not focused on him, but was instead moving toward the wheels of the wagon with some kind of pole or spear in his hand. Aaron recognized the device immediately. It was a wheel-breaker, a long pole that was fitted with a ribbon of metal that, when thrust into a wheel, would snare and tangle, ripping the spokes apart. Aaron pulled the reins, angling the wagon away from the rider.
"Hold on!" he yelled to the princess as the wagon left the road and bounced onto rougher ground. In the back of the wagon, Ariana fell atop the mattress as books, clothes and other items flew around her. Luckily, the heavy sacks of provisions and other items had been lashed to the wagon's wooden lower walls and they held firm.
Riding across rough ground now, Aaron struggled to keep the wagon level. The rider had a much easier time of it but had to weave and dodge rocks and small trees as he tried to get close enough to use the wheel-breaker. Meanwhile, the other rider who had broken off his attack on the princess had sheathed his sword and was now unstringing a small satchel from the side of his saddle. Small wisps of smoke escaped from the top of it as he pulled it from the strap where it had been tie
d. The traitorous soldier held the leather straps of the satchel in his teeth as he reached into another pouch and pulled out a handful of what looked like wet grass. He stuffed it into the bag and then, riding up as close to the wagon as possible, he threw it inside.
Ariana had managed to push herself to her hands and knees when everything exploded around her. Bits of fire and smoke licked the inside of the wagon as the leather satchel spilled its contents everywhere. Smoldering coals and hay that had been soaked first in water, then in some kind of thick, tar-like oil and mixed together had created a mess of flames that stuck and clung to everything they touched.
Aaron heard the princess cry out and he looked back to see the inside of the wagon erupting in flames. He put his sword back in its scabbard and turned, hoping to find a way to help Ariana out of the wagon, when he was slammed back into his seat as the wagon lurched forward. The horses had sensed the fire and, panicked, they were running out of control. Aaron tried to pull on the reins but the horses ears were back, fearful and determined to escape the inferno that was chasing them. Aaron looked ahead and saw that the wagon was headed for a steep ravine. There was no time, no way to save the wagon and the horses. He had to get the princess.
Aaron dashed into the back of the wagon and saw Ariana lying unconscious on the floorboards with fire all around her. Bits of her clothing had caught fire and he stamped them out with his hands as he picked her up and carried her out the front of the wagon. Just ahead was the edge of the ravine and Aaron only had time for a glance to see that their pursuers had slowed and were now watching as the wagon drove over the edge and down the steep hill that was nearly a vertical drop.