Castle Walls

by D. Jordan Redhawk

  "We tracked down a small cell meeting in a village near their old capital. They knew no one else in their resistance, though this was in their possession."

  The Invader crumpled the cloth in his fist. A movement, the soldier slightly flinching away, caught his eye. His voice a dangerous rumble, he said, "You didn't bring me the head I asked for."

  Doing his best not to tremble, the guard said, "No, my liege. We...I thought this more important to bring to your attention." He straightened his stance, swallowing heavily in fear. "I beg you not to take punishment on my men. It was my order to return; they were obeying their senior officer."

  After a long silence, the monarch asked, "What's your name?"

  Startled, the soldier's facade cracked a little and he answered shakily, "Corporal Edel Grimnirson, Sire. "

  Stepping up to the throne, standard crushed in his grip, the Invader said, "Edel, you made the right decision." As he sat down, he found the obvious relief of the men amusing. "I want a full written account from all three of you - see my scribes. Then you will be off duty for three days. I'll see that you each receive extra compensation in your pay."

  Edel, looking from his men to his king, bowed deeply. "Thank you, Sire!"

  "Dismissed." As the men rose to leave, the Invader leaned forward. "And, Edel?"

  The soldier turned back, his face a reflection of worry and happiness.

  "When you return to duty, report to the captain of my personal guard... Lieutenant."

  It took a moment for the promotion to sink in, but when it did, a smile crossed Edel's face. "Aye, Your Royal Highness! Thank you!"

  Quiet reigned in the audience chamber after the travelers had left. Face grim, the Invader stared at nothing, eyes restlessly searching as his thoughts spun about like a child's top. His gaze finally settled on the old woman. "Attend Us," he commanded, turning toward the door behind his throne.

  This room was smaller, a private audience chamber with crackling fireplace and comfortable chairs. Leaving the door open for the witch, the Invader removed his chain of office, laying it on a nearby table before pulling on a thick rope. Immediately, a servant appeared, pouring the king his favorite wine and setting food within easy reach.

  The witch finally hobbled into the room, a guardsman closing the door behind her. Without preamble, she shuffled to a stool near the fire. Another goblet of wine was set beside her and the slave left the room.

  Getting right to the point, the Invader held up the banner still in his fist. "What does this mean, Beltrana? I ran Prince Liam through myself. How can he be a threat to me?"

  The old woman reached for the standard, clutching it to her chest. Rheumy eyes closed and she rocked in her chair, muttering.

  With vague disgust, the Invader looked away, sipping his wine. As everyone else, he found witches and their ilk disturbing. He couldn't deny their powers, however, not since the first one he'd visited so many years ago. After he'd ascended his throne, he'd never been without one as an advisor.

  Beltrana fumbled for a pouch at her waist, tossing a handful of stones onto a low table that had arcane designs carved into its surface. Her voice, low pitched and whispery, rubbed not unpleasantly against the Invader's ears. "This is no threat to you and yours, only a means to an end."

  "A means to an end?" he repeated, sitting across from her and leaning forward. "It's impossible. Liam is dead, his entire family slaughtered by my hand. The only one left is his sister."

  At the mention of the princess, Beltrana began rocking again. "Your death is nigh, the girl is coming. She will be your downfall."

  Angered, the Invader abruptly rose, putting distance between them. "I don't know why I listen to you, old woman," he growled, back turned.

  "Because I've never lied to you."

  With an exasperated sigh, the king finished his wine, thumping the goblet on the table. Looking over his shoulder, he asked, "Is there a chance I'll survive?"

  The old woman nodded, showing rotten teeth as she grinned. "There is always that. Always that." Her eyes became sharp as she focused on the man before her. "Do not allow yourself to be fooled and you will succeed."

  Wanting to be alone with his troubled thoughts, the monarch said, "Leave me."

  Looking over her shoulder, Katerin allowed her gaze to sweep across the five remaining wagons. With a sigh, she returned her attention to the road, pulling her shawl close against the autumn chill. Ros was driving the wagon, a light cape draped across her shoulders, her curly blonde hair ruffled by a passing breeze.

  From what Katerin could gather, not having access to a proper calendar, it had been nearly five months since she and her servant had stumbled upon the circus. Five very educational months, she mused, a slight smile curling her lips. In that time she had gone from a frightened renegade princess to one of the many entertainers of this wandering troupe. True to everyone's word, she had found that Ros' bark was worse than her bite and the pair had developed a comfortable camaraderie during their proximity.

  With winter coming on, the circus was disbanding for the season. Half the performers were already gone, drifting off toward their homesteads and families with heartfelt farewells and plans to meet come spring. These last wagons were now rolling toward what all called the Compound.

  "There it is," Ros said, a smile on her face.

  Eagerly, Katerin studied the nearing buildings. She heard shouts behind her as the others caught sight of home.

  The road paralleled a stream, a small but wide bridge spanning it and ending before a large one-story dwelling. Smoke belched from the chimney and the dark woman found herself shivering at the promise of warmth. To the left was a barn of nearly the same size with a fenced area beside it. Chickens scratched the dirt here and there and a few cows and horses were in the pasture beyond.

  Ros clucked at her steeds, guiding them across the bridge and into the

  dooryard. She circled about to allow the others room before coming to a halt. Grinning at the brunette beside her, she said, "Welcome home, Kat. Let me introduce you to the rest of the family."

  By the time Katerin had climbed from the wagon, most of the others had, as well, and a loud commotion was heard as people greeted one another. Ilia, who had opted to remain with the princess when Gemma and Lucinda had parted company, stepped from the back of Ros' wagon, standing as awkward witness. Wrapping a companionable arm around her handmaiden's waist, Katerin joined her.

  Boasting four new faces, the small crowd was exuberantly hugging each other in welcome. Cristof had an older version of himself in a headlock, the pair rough housing in excitement. An elder man listened intently to young Wills as he prattled on about the season's adventures, Willem and Sati making the occasional comment in translation. Katerin found herself flushing when she noticed the dwarf, Sameer, heatedly kissing a young redhead who had knelt down before him. Looking prudently away, she saw Ros walking toward her, an old woman on her arm.

  "Here now, scamp," the woman exclaimed as they neared. "These old ears are far beyond hearing language like that!"

  A surprised grin lit the brunette's face at Ros' blush. I never thought I'd see the day...

  Despite her reddening complexion, Ros responded, "Only when that old tongue starts saying the same things. Where do you think I learned it?"

  With a scoff, aged eyes twinkling, the woman harmlessly slapped Ros' forearm. Catching sight of Katerin and Ilia, she said, "You've been picking up strays again, young lady."

  Ros burst into a laugh. "Aye, that I have! It's my favorite hobby!" Stopping at the end of her wagon, the blonde bowed slightly. "Katerin, Ilia, may I introduce you to Emerita."

  The pair curtseyed, Ilia's voice barely above a murmur as she said hello.

  Emerita eyed them. "Well, at least these have manners," she said.

  Ignoring her, Ros continued smoothly, "Emerita has been with the circus for as long as I can remember. She and her husband, Phizo, are the greatest contortionists known to man."

  This got a laugh f
rom the old woman. Leaning forward, she whispered in a conspiratorial fashion, "Young Ros still has not realized we're getting old and decrepit. Why, I can't lift my arm over my head anymore!"

  Snorting, the blonde shook her head. "You'll not convince me, Em." Looking over her shoulder, she saw that most of the travel worn people were drifting toward the main house. "Come, Katerin, Ilia. If I know Em well enough, there's hot stew and freshly baked bread inside."

  "Aye, you do know me well, scamp," Emerita chuckled. Gathering her skirts, she smiled at the new arrivals. "Welcome home, both of you," she said as she made her way across the yard, leaving the three to follow.

  With a slight bow, Ros waved the women forward. "I'll see to the horses before joining you," she said.

  "Don't be too long about it," the old woman's voice trailed back. "I'll not hold Cristof away from the stew forever." Those few still outside, laughed at the reference to the animal trainer's legendary stomach.

  "We'd best get started then," the blonde laughed, moving towards her wagon. She clambered up the side like a monkey, grabbing the reins and guiding the horses to the barn. Behind her, Willem, Cristof and the two other men did the same.

  For a moment, Katerin stood with her handmaiden, watching the wagons disappear around the side of the house. Ilia shivered, rubbing her arms against the autumn chill even as her liege tugged her shawl close.

  "Here now, lass," the brunette said, upon seeing they were the only ones remaining. "Let's get indoors and warm."

  "Aye, Kat." As they crossed the yard, the blonde's voice dropped into a murmur. "Who do you think that was with Cristof? His father?"

  Recognizing a bit more than casual interest, Katerin responded in the same low tone. "I think it's his brother, Henry." She hid a smile at the calculating glint in her handmaiden's eye.

  It took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the darker interior and, as expected, they shivered as warm air wrapped about them, the scent of fresh bread prominent. Most of the returning family was settled before the huge fireplace on the left wall. Sati was helping the redhead dish up healthy portions of stew over Em's protests. Young Wills, too excited to sit still, was running circles around the large room. Seated on a small stool, Sameer's eyes were bright as he held a small, squirming bundle in his arms, a tuft of reddish hair peeking from the cloth. To the right of the crowd was a wooden table that could easily sit twenty or more, half its benches now located before the fire. Shelves lined the back wall, filled with the usual tools and utensils for running a household, extra linens, and even a handful of leather bound books. Small windows on the two remaining walls let in light.

  Emerita bustled forward, pulling the new arrivals towards the group, fussing at them until they were comfortably seated, hot tea and stew within easy reach. Eventually, those that had been out with the horses returned, and another bench was added to the growing crowd. Ros settled down on a stool beside Katerin, wolfing down her food as those who had remained behind were brought up to date with the news of the world. The princess was introduced to Emerita's husband, Phizo, the other half of the aforementioned contortionist team. Additionally, Henry was Cristof's brother and the other elder man was Joseph, a widower who had spent his time in the circus as juggler and magician. Sameer's woman, Florin, did clowning and dancing, but she'd stayed home through the season rather than give birth on the road.

  "So," Joseph said, filling the bowl of his pipe. "What news of the Invader? I've heard at the market that he's taken another kingdom."

  As Katerin and Ilia froze, Ros nodded with a grim expression. She leaned forward, setting her empty bowl near the hearth with the rest of the dirty dishes. "Aye. He has. The kingdom of Dulce is no more. Took it near five months ago from what I gather." Blonde head turning this way and that, she eyed her family. "We were right near the border at the time."

  Florin made a small noise, reaching out to rub Sameer's back as she nursed the baby. Frowning, Emerita asked, "Did you have any trouble?"

  "Some," Ros shrugged. "He's looking for someone… or was. His guard rousted us one night near Hodsin, but nothing came of it."

  "Except the captain becoming completely disgusted with you," Cristof said, chuckling. "And Sameer acting flea-ridden didn't help matters in that regard, either."

  The dwarf screwed his craggy face into an ugly expression, scratching roughly at his neck. "I certainly don't understand to what you are referring."

  As Sameer continued his itching antics, everyone laughed. Katerin was glad of the distraction, her face quite red at the mention of the Invader's captain storming away. While she had come to terms regarding the circus owner's sapphist ways, it was still embarrassing to her. Perhaps because it was naturally assumed they were involved in such a manner due to the sleeping arrangements.

  Truth be told, however, Ros hadn't laid a hand on her. There were still the occasional rude comments, but these were made more for entertainment value than anything. Glancing sidelong at the blonde, Katerin caught a flash of dancing eyes and she felt her blush deepen.

  "Well, with our new additions, there'll be some changes in who sleeps where, I gather," Emerita said.

  "Aye," Ros nodded, sipping at her tea. "Cristof and Henry will have to share again. Kat and Ilia will take Cristof's old room."

  Henry turned to his younger brother, punching him on the arm. "You still snore?"

  "Never!"

  "Aye, he does!" Sameer insisted. "Many's the night I had to sleep under the wagon to get away from the racket!"

  Willem, quiet up to this point, nodded. "And I've had to move my wagon to the other side of the encampment!"

  "Henry, we'll give you extra pillows to cover your ears," Ros promised with a grin, standing. As the others followed her lead, she said, "Daylight's wasting. Let's get those wagons unpacked and enjoy our first night home."

  Katerin found herself herded outside towards the barn with the rest of the troupe, a mix of emotion stirring her heart.

  Chapter 6

  Drumbeat.

  Panting, heart thumping, crashing through the wilderness. Noises everywhere, the call of wild animals urging her on. Behind her, she knew the Invader and his soldiers were chasing her, tracking her down to kill her. She was royalty and her life was forfeit; she'd been instructed since a toddler that she lived for her people. Her people were gone.

  Bursting from behind a bush, she screamed silently at the armored figure before her. Moonlight on blade flashed above her and she cowered, afraid of the deathblow that was coming. Cuddling her doll to her chest, she could only hear the scuffle, the rattle of armor, could feel the ground tremble as a heavy body hit it.

  A gentle touch on her shoulder and she peered fearfully at her savior. The minstrel smiled down on her, a bloody dove in his hands. "Hush, child. You're safe now."

  Struggling to consciousness, Katerin felt hands grasping at her shoulders and tried to push them away. When she finally awoke, it was to a dark room and Ilia's whispered assurances that all was well. Panting, fighting against tears of fear and relief, the princess stopped resisting her handmaiden's calming words. Several moments passed, however, before she relaxed into the other woman's embrace.

  Katerin pulled away, glad of the dark that hid her blush of embarrassment. "Thank you, Ilia. I'll be fine now."

  "Are you sure, Kat?" the willowy blonde asked, long past the days of referring to her as royalty.

  "Aye," the dark woman nodded, wiping at an unseen tear from her cheek. "It was just a nightmare. I've had them often since…that night."

  Ilia held her, squeezing gently. "As do I sometimes. It must be the strange surroundings that have triggered them."

  "It must be." Katerin gently disengaged from her handmaiden. "Let's go back to sleep," she whispered, lying back down on the large bed. A vague sense of relief filled her as Ilia complied. Curled up on her side, the princess stared into the darkness, the noises of a strange building about her. Behind her, she could hear Ilia's breathing slow and deepen until a gentle snore
was all that was heard. Only then did Katerin relax.

  How odd it is, she mused, that I should miss Ros' presence. Especially since it's not the first night I've slept with Ilia beside me. When Gemma and Lucinda had moved on to their home, Ilia had moved her meager belongings in to the circus owner's wagon. The women had been sleeping together in the same bed for two weeks, Ros having shown a strange sense of chivalry and bedding down on the floor.

  Despite the residual terror of her nightmare, Katerin's eyes closed and the beginnings of sleep stole over her. Reaching out, she brushed the wall beside the bed, knowing that Ros' room was on the other side.

  "Thought you'd be asleep, scamp," Emerita said, looking up from her stitching.

  Ros, her expression contrite, scratched at her unruly curls. "As did I." She fetched up a stool and settled down beside the old woman. "You shouldn't be doing that at night, Em. Your eyesight will be ruined."

  Emerita chuckled. "Aye, Ros. I'm an old lady and my eyesight is ruined anyway. Stitching in firelight isn't going to make a difference anymore." With a shrewd gaze, she studied the circus owner's profile. "You've been having nightmares again?"

  "Some," the blonde admitted with a grimace. Her eyes shifted to the left of the fireplace, to the wall that divided Katerin and Ilia's room from the main area. "I'm not sure what woke me. It might have been Kat."

  "Aye," Emerita said with a nod. "I believe I heard something from her room, as well."

  "Did you? She must have had another nightmare." Ros stared into the fire. "Do you think I should check on her?"

  The old woman grinned slightly. "No, I think not. Ilia is with her."

  Blinking hazel eyes, the blonde's shoulders slumped - a small action that spoke volumes. "You're right. I'm sure she'll be fine."

  "I'm sure she will," Emerita repeated.

  Silence filled the room, broken only by the sound of the crackling fire. Ros finally broke it by saying, "Sati has already spoken to you about them?"

  Again, Emerita nodded. "Aye, she has. You cannot expect an old woman to not be curious about her child's new friends."