Behind her, they climbed on the horses. Thunderhooves reared, kicking two with his front hooves, but another three took their place, this time holding sharp daggers.
Danika’s heart tore in two. If she left Valorian he’d bleed to death, but if she stayed, the sheer number of kobolds would overwhelm Bron.
Either way, their mission had failed. The kingdom would fall to the fires of the She-Beast, and man would no longer reign in this world.
The call of a low horn echoed over the battle in a long, primal swell, tearing the bottom from Danika’s heart. She’d know that sound anywhere. The call belonged to the dead army of Sill.
The kobolds stopped at once, their ears perked to the sky. Bron kicked the closest ones away and scanned the trees.
Danika had thought the night couldn’t get any worse. Fate had misled her.
The horn blew again as if answering everyone’s question in an ugly bleat. The kobolds cried and scampered into the forest, leaving them alone in the clearing. The wind picked up, sending boughs creaking and pine needles rustling as if the forest breathed in anticipation.
Bron turned to Danika with sorrow in his eyes. A thousand stolen glances could not deliver the pain and longing in that one gaze meant only for her.
Danika mouthed the words, unable to speak. “It cannot be.”
Chapter 8
Woman of the Forest
The woods parted and a single figure in a tattered ebony robe strode into the clearing with purposeful steps. Danika’s heart climbed to her throat and she swallowed her fear, reminding herself Ebonvale’s army had defeated the necromancer king in a campaign lasting all of her preteen years. Her father had died preventing the dead from walking in the land of the living. Had the king perished in vain?
No festering army followed the figure as it claimed the center of the circle, placing a long, knobbed staff into the earth with a black, gloved hand no bigger than Danika’s. The figure raised an arm, tan as treated leather, from the folds of fabric and spread an upturned palm, the universal gesture showing he or she meant no harm. Blood pulsed in the veins running down the arm, and the skin, though wrinkled from the sun, was unbroken and not infected. This was no leader of the dead.
Yet, Danika spotted the bone horn hanging from the figure’s neck on a thick chord of twined human hair. A skull with horns on either side had been carved into the bell, the crest of Sill.
Bron glanced at Danika with a questioning gaze. He tapped his fingers on the claymore’s hilt.
This figure had saved their lives. They would be worse than the kobolds if they attacked.
No. They owed this specter a life debt. Danika shook her head. Bron lowered the tip of his sword, and a single drip of black blood oozed to the ground.
The figure threw back its hood. Wayward, windblown blond hair streaked with white frizzled outward in a halo around a foxlike face wearied by wrinkles and time. One eye, green as the forest in mid-summer’s sun, stared back at them with curiosity. White film covered the other eye in a thick, cloudy cataract. Wrinkles webbed across her once beautiful face and age spots mottled every inch of her skin.
Danika blinked in disbelief.
Impossible.
If time had sped thirty years in the future, she’d be staring at herself.
It couldn’t be. She’d left for Jamal with her minstrel lover. Danika still had the letter, scribbled in hasty strokes, apologizing and bidding farewell. Yet, only one woman possessed a horn of the dead, given to her by her husband after he’d won the first battle with the army of Sill.
Bron dropped to his knees. He bowed his head before the old woman, reaffirming what Danika knew in the crux of her heart. “My Queen.”
“Bronford Thoridian of Oaten’s Dell.” The former queen of Ebonvale placed a hand on his shoulder. “A brave and lionhearted man you’ve turned out to be.”
Her gaze roamed to Danika, the sparkling green eye watery with melancholy. “My dear daughter, you are more glorious than I ever imagined.”
Anger, hatred, guilt and regret poured into Danika’s soul in a foul brew. She could hardly bear to ask her runaway mother for assistance. However, Valorian lay beneath her hands with an ashen face laced in sweat.
“Please.” Danika took in a shaky breath. “We need your aid.”
The former queen glanced at Valorian and her green eye grew dark and hard as flagstone. She scanned the shivering woods. “You’re lucky you wandered into my hunting snares.” She reached underneath a mossy log and pulled a dead hare from a trap. “They’ll return in larger numbers. If you want to live, come with me.”
Danika nodded to Bron. “Let’s get moving.”
She tied her scarf around the minstrel’s shoulder in a sling, then rose to survey the damage. Two of the horses lay on patches of blood-stained pine needles, their throats cut. Danika’s heart dropped as she recognized one of them as Thunderhooves. Hadn’t Nip lost enough?
Bron stood beside her making the sign of Helena’s sword. “They fought bravely.”
Danika turned away from the bloody sight. “Make sure the boy does not see this.”
“He’s too smart for his own good.” Bron shook his head and pulled a jagged, hilted dagger from the horse’s flank. He studied the serrated blade with disgust and threw it into the woods. “He’ll know soon enough.”
Danika grabbed his arm. “Please. Not now.”
Bron nodded. “So be it.” He lifted the tree from the carriage and Nip’s round face peered out the glass window. The warrior blocked the view of the dead horses with his massive waist.
Thank Helena Bron had a soft side. Danika stood and wiped the blood from her hands on her riding pants. Bron held his hand to the carriage window. “Stay in there. We must get Valorian to safety.”
“Is everyone safe?” Nip peered around him, and Danika moved to block the view.
“Valorian needs your help.” Bron placed his hand on the door so Nip wouldn’t open it. “Stay there and we’ll bring him in.” An edge of authority cut through his voice, strong enough to keep the boy inside.
Bron helped Danika lift the minstrel from the ground and to the carriage. They opened the door and carried him to the velvet seat next to Nip.
“Will he be secure?” She placed her hand on Valorian’s forehead. His skin burned hot as fire.
Bron nodded and returned to the rice bags, stacking them on top of the carriage. “I’ll make certain to ride carefully and avoid bumps, if I can.”
“Hold this tightly.” Danika took Nip’s hand and placed his palm on Valorian’s wound. “Do not let go.”
Nip nodded as he stared at the blood blossoming through the fabric with wide eyes.
She moved to close the carriage door. Valorian caught her hand with his own, his metallic eyes lucid. “My Princess.”
She was not his princess, but he’d risked his life for their cause, and may soon lose it. “Yes?”
“You fought bravely.”
“As did you.” She froze, locking her gaze with his. The words from his song came back to her. He’d given her that dagger out of care and something more. What did he mean by something more? If he died, she’d never know.
Valorian released his hold on her wrist. He smoothed his fingers over her silken scarf wrapped around his chest. “Thank you, Danika.”
“’Twas the least I could do for saving all our lives.” Danika placed her hand over his and squeezed. She’d underestimated his strength and the power of his music.
Bron cleared his throat behind her and Danika pulled away and closed the door. She mounted her horse. Bron had secured Valorian’s horse in place of the carriage horse they’d lost. Her mother stared at her from the center of the clearing, wistfulness etched in the fine wrinkles around her mouth.
Reminiscing had no place in this quest. Danika shot her an impatient glance. “The scent of the horses’ blood will draw all manner of predatory beasts. How long?”
“’Twill take an hour at most.”
“Then w
e shouldn’t waste our breath. Lead us forward.” Danika spurred her horse.
They would have never survived the attack if that massive abomination with malformed ears had attacked at the same time as the other kobolds. Valorian had risked his life keeping them alive. Time for her to save his.
* * * *
The forest changed from a looming threat full of shadows to a fragrant grove of cherrywoods. Their reddish-tinged leaves and low-hanging branches provided a cozy orchard escape. As they passed the low branches, hollow wood chimes clinked around them, creating a calming tinkle of peace and tranquility.
“There must be a thousand of ’um.” Nip spoke behind Danika but the princess didn’t turn around. She couldn’t tell how far her mother could hear and she couldn’t open her heart to care. Valorian’s recovery consumed her every concern.
“That’s how she’s lived here all these years,” Bron murmured. “Protected by a minstrel’s charms.”
A bitter taste tainted Danika’s mouth. A minstrel. Of course.
A cottage made from bluewoods tilted at an angle against a hilltop cleared for a patch of wildflowers and a garden. A flagstone chimney puffed with gray smoke on the southern side.
Danika hadn’t known what to expect, but certainly not this humble hovel perched in the middle of nowhere slanting against a knoll. Born in the affluent, jeweled city of Jamal, her mother had come from riches. She’d compromised for Ebonvale’s inner keep, never mind this sorry beggar’s cabin.
“You may tie your horses here.” Her mother gestured to a fence near a water fountain at the bottom of the hill. She stepped onto a gabled porch as if the cracked wood were a palace and opened the front door. Golden light cast by a simmering fireplace and hanging lanterns spilled around them. “Bring the minstrel to me.”
Bron jumped from the carriage and helped Danika off her horse. “I’ll see to the horses after we usher Valorian inside.”
“Thank you, Bron.” Danika hurried to the carriage door, afraid of what she’d find. They’d ridden for a full hour, as her mother had advised, and Valorian’s condition could have deteriorated.
Swallowing bile, she opened the door. Valorian remained where they’d left him, splayed over the bags of rice. He met her gaze and offered a weak smile. Compassion overflowed her heart. “Come with me, we’ll get you healed up in no time.”
Beside him, Nip clamped his hand over the wound. “I didn’t let go.”
“Good. You did a superb job.” Tears burned Danika’s eyes. For such a good lad, he had dreadful luck. She couldn’t keep the truth from him for much longer. Soon he’d leave the carriage and count two fewer horses, one of them his.
But first she must tend to Valorian. She placed a hand on his shoulder as Bron came up behind them. “Stay here while we get Valorian situated.”
Nip nodded.
Dear Helena, make the boy listen. “That’s an order.”
Danika and Bron carried Valorian into the cottage. They placed him on a low bed of straw covered in rough linen. Gone were her mother’s fancy embroidered pillows. The queen had ordered her handmaidens to arrange and rearrange them on her bed back in Ebonvale. Danika shook off a memory of her mother slapping her sticky hand as a child when she tried to touch a shiny, golden cushion with indigo tassels from Jamal.
Memories came in a flood and Danika swiped at them like bats, turning them all away. She had to focus on Valorian. He wandered in and out of consciousness as blood soaked the scarf she’d tied around him.
Bron paced back and forth in the small room. “I’ll get the boy.”
“Bron.” Danika touched his arm in warning.
“He has to know.” Bron pulled away. “In times like these, boys turn to men sooner than later.”
Danika nodded, frowning. If only she could protect Nip from the truth.
Her mother carried over jars of ointment and bandages from a storage room in the back. She knelt beside Valorian and untied the makeshift tourniquet.
Suspicion clouded Danika’s mind. “Since when are you a healer?”
Her mother didn’t even glance up. “Since I’ve lived alone in these woods. Necessity is the greatest teacher.”
Alone? Where was her minstrel lover? The man she had loved more than Danika and her father?
The prince of the House of Song glanced up and held out a shaking hand. “You can call me Valorian.”
Her mother took his hand in her knobby fingers. Complex emotion sped through her eyes.
Danika leaned forward. Was she remembering her minstrel?
“My name is Sybil.”
“I know.” Valorian closed his eyes as Sybil pressed an ointment into the cut. His response almost knocked Danika backward. Did he know her or know of her? She’d heard rumors the House of Song arranged for her mother and the minstrel to meet and even enabled their escape. If Valorian’s family had been a part of this, she could never link her kingdom with such thieves.
Was she getting carried away? The former queen had left a legacy of infamy back in Ebonvale. Perhaps Valorian just knew the tale.
Behind her, the cottage door opened and Bron stepped in. “Come.” He took Danika’s arm as if sensing the tumultuous feelings storming inside her. “The boy needs you and I have to tend to the horses.”
Danika allowed Bron to escort her to the front porch. The new day had brightened the sky to a dull slate canvas. Nip sat on the last step, staring at the ground.
Danika sat beside him. “I’m sorry about your horse.”
He shrugged and sniffed. Tears streaked his freckled cheeks. “It always happens this way.”
Danika nudged closer to him, afraid to scare him away if she came on too strong. She wasn’t his mother even though the longer she spent with him, the more she wanted to be. “What do you mean?”
He picked a strand of long grass from the ground and tied it into a knot. “Before the wyverns came, Ma asked me to stay inside with her and help her bake sweetbread. Instead I ran into town to see the butcher’s new pair of goats. I never saw her again.”
Danika took his hand. She’d never held such a small hand before. So small, smaller than her hand when she’d lost her mother. The need to comfort him overwhelmed her. “’Tis not your fault.”
“Maybe not. But I should have helped her with the bread. Just like I should have stayed with Thunderhooves. It was the last time I’d ride him.” He threw the knotted grass on the ground. “Whenever I make the wrong choice, the gods take things away from me.”
She smoothed his curly hair behind his ear. “Gods do not punish little boys for being little boys. All you can do is appreciate what you have before it’s gone.”
“I have nothing.”
She squeezed his hand. “You have me.”
Nip leaned against her. She sat holding him and watching Bron clean the horses. The boy fell asleep and she carried him inside. Valorian tossed in a feverish sleep, lying in fresh bandages. Her mother clanged bottles in the back, perhaps creating some new herbal remedy to help him. Danika placed Nip on a cushion on the floor. She should stay by Valorian but the small cottage suffocated her. She needed fresh air. She denied the thought that she needed Bron.
* * * *
Twilight had given way to early rays of golden sun. She put both arms on the splintered balcony as Bron brought their horses to the fountain and cleaned their hooves.
He glanced at her over his shoulder. “You were right to ask her aid.”
Danika squeezed the railing, the wood slivers pricking her skin. “I don’t trust her.”
“You have every right not to.” He threw a clod of mud under one of the cherrywoods and went back to work picking her horse’s hooves.
“Why do you still bow before her?” Danika couldn’t hide the hurt in her voice.
“Because I took an oath to protect and obey every member of the Ebonvale household. She is still my ward, but that doesn’t mean I don’t harbor the same feelings racing through your heart. Do not forget, I was there, too, Princess.
I witnessed the pain she caused you and your father.”
Pain that was still as raw as the day she’d read that dreadful note.
“You must find a way to forgive her or at least give her a second chance. Even if your heart forbids it.” Bron had finished with the horses’ hooves and walked to the balcony, gazing at her like a lover reciting a poem. “’Twill benefit your sanity and peace of mind. She is lending you aid. She saved us. Maybe she wants to set her wrongs right.”
“They will never be set right. She cannot give me back the ten years I lost with her.”
“So, use the time you have left.”
Danika harrumphed and turned her head away to the gray morning sky, ravens circling the dark part of the forest from whence they’d come. The time she had left? While their kingdom hung in the balance, rekindling her relationship with her estranged mother would be the last path she would choose.
Bron’s touch brought her out of her musing. He reached up and laced his thick fingers through hers. “Stubborn to a fault. That’s my princess.”
Her gaze traveled to his, locking in place. It was the first time she’d truly seen him since the start of their journey. The first time she’d let him in. My Princess. Valorian had called her the same thing. But, coming from Bron, it excited her in dangerous ways.
His hot touch lent her strength, a different kind of strength than Valorian’s songs. Danika blushed and guilt overcame her for having such feelings while the minstrel lay wounded. Her gaze wandered to his shoulder caked in dried blood.
“Dear heavens. I forgot you’re hurt.”
Bron shrugged, eyeing the wound as if it were an insect bite. “A kobold’s dagger is like a butter knife.”
“A butter knife?” That same dagger had killed a horse. She took her hand back and gestured toward the door. “You should clean the wound all the same. Follow me and I’ll see you get the attention you need.”
Minstrel's Serenade Page 6