King's Warrior (The Minstrel's Song Book 1)

by Jenelle Leanne Schmidt

  She never would have admitted it, but she felt something like relief. She was almost glad that she had been forced to stay out of the battle. After her fight with the Dark Warriors, she had discovered that she really did not relish the idea of real battle with real danger and real death.

  Yole would have liked to argue as well. He felt as though he were being treated like a child, and he did not like the feeling. He did not say anything, however, because he did not think there was much of a chance that he would succeed where Kamarie had failed.

  Kiernan spoke up hesitantly, jerking Yole out of his thoughts, “Um, I, ah, really am not much of a hand at fighting or, ah, handling weapons. I knocked someone out with my mandolin once, but I do not think that would be much help here. I will come along with you if you want, Sir Brant, but I fear that I will be much more harm than help to you.”

  Brant looked at the minstrel for a moment. Kiernan met his gaze this time, his blue eyes open and honest. Then Brant nodded, as though reaching a decision.

  “You will go up to the top of the hill as well then,” he said shortly.

  Kiernan nodded, and then turned to follow the others up the hill. Brant watched them go and then swung his horse around nodding to Oraeyn.

  “Follow me,” he said.

  Oraeyn obeyed and urged his own horse to follow Brant and his black charger. He suddenly found that he was scared, more scared than he had ever been. This was nothing like facing the two treacherous dragons or the Dark Warriors who had attacked them on the road. That had been nothing but reflexes and reaction without having time to think. This was much harder and more terrifying. He was heading into battle against thousands of skilled warriors, and he was not even a full knight yet. Oraeyn had complete confidence in Brant though, and he found that his confidence in Brant seemed to cancel out most of the fear in himself. Suddenly he realized that Brant had taken it for granted that he was coming. There had been no question about whether or not he was going to follow Brant into battle. He realized what a great compliment he had just been paid, and he found himself smiling broadly. Pride welled up within him, banishing the remnants of his fear.

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  “It… is a good thing,” Kamarie said between gasps for air, “that this hill… is not any taller. Because it is certainly… steep enough.”

  “I… quite… agree,” Kiernan said.

  The hill was too steep to ride up on horseback, so they had been forced to dismount and lead their horses behind them as they climbed. The going was difficult, and they were exhausted after their two-hour climb to the top. Kamarie was surprised by the sight that met her eyes. Fortress Hill was covered with women and children, most of them unknown to her and she unknown to them. Kamarie focused her gaze until she found who she sought. Her mother was standing at the bluff’s edge, overlooking the battle.

  Zara’s long, blond hair was bound back in a great golden braid. Wisps of hair had come loose and were blowing around her face in the gentle breeze. She held a bow in her hand and was staring intently down at the battle. In that instant, she looked so like a warrior that Kamarie caught her breath in a sharp gasp, amazed. As Kamarie watched, Zara notched an arrow and drew the bow up to her cheek. She gazed down the long shaft of the arrow, her brow furrowed in deep concentration. Beads of sweat glistened on her forehead and she looked exhausted. She pulled the arrow back and then loosed it in one fluid motion. The arrow flew from her bow and found its target.

  As soon as she had shot the arrow, Zara dropped the bow back down to her side. Her arm hung limp and she grasped the bow loosely, as though she would drop it at any moment. Kamarie could see the weariness in the way that her mother stood and she knew that she did not have the strength to draw another arrow.

  “Mother!” she yelled across the crowd.

  Zara turned towards the sound of Kamarie’s voice and looked around, her eyes searching. Kamarie pushed her way through the crowd of people and ran towards her mother, feeling as though she were moving in slow motion. Zara caught sight of her daughter through the crowd and broke into a run herself. Near the center of the hill, mother and daughter met and embraced.

  They held each other in a hug. They both knew that there was no time for questions and even less for answers, so neither of them spoke. Then Zara saw Dylanna and Leila making their way through the crowd, Kiernan and Yole trailing along behind them. Zara let go of Kamarie and greeted her sisters with a warm smile and moist eyes that read, “I’m so glad you are here.”

  “You are worn out,” Dylanna said, “Kamarie will take over your bow, and Leila and I will help maintain your rather ingenious magic shield.”

  Zara sighed gratefully and handed her bow to Kamarie. “Dear sister, ever the organizer.”

  Kamarie took the bow and slung the quiver over her shoulder. She walked back over to where Zara had been standing and took up her position. Dylanna and Leila both helped Zara to sit down, and then they both took some of the strain of the magical shield from her. Zara sighed again.

  “I will never know how Calyssia did it, maintaining that shield for so long all by herself,” Zara said quietly.

  “So you know that she left,” Dylanna said without looking at Zara.

  Zara nodded. “Yes, the Cove People told me that she went back to the sea. Half of the people up here are from Calyssia’s Cove. Was there truly nothing that she could have done?”

  Dylanna shook her head. “Her time had come, and she was completely drained. She was dying even when she spoke to us, though I did not realize it at the time. As you have found on a slightly smaller scale, the energy required to keep up such a shield as she had woven is superhuman. That is why she had to stay so close to the Cove, why she never left its boundaries. She had woven a part of her own life into the place, and she knew that when she left, the boundaries would fail and the magic would fade, as it did shortly after she returned to the sea that she so loved.”

  Zara managed a small smile. “I meant to go visit her... I wanted to see her again before she left, but I thought I had so much time. I suppose I should have known, but I never guessed how much it had taken out of her. I just didn’t understand what she was doing, and now it is too late.”

  “But she loved it Zara,” Leila broke in, “Calyssia would not have done anything differently if she had the chance to do it over. She had no regrets.”

  Zara nodded, her eyes weary. “I suppose you are right. I know I wouldn’t make any different choices, given the chance.” She glanced over at Kamarie and love for her daughter shone in her eyes.

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  Oraeyn followed Brant quietly, weaving through the forest. Their horses were left behind. They were headed for the opposite side of Fortress Hill. Brant had told Oraeyn that the real attack would come from either side of the battlefield. The Dark Warriors would lie in wait until they were convinced they had captured their prey’s full attention in one direction, and then they would swoop down from either side with the killing blow.

  Oraeyn did not bother to ask Brant how he knew this. He had come to realize that every time he asked the man a question, he just ended up feeling more confused than before. Brant had a way of answering all of his questions with riddles that seemed to serve no other purpose than to weave an even thicker layer of mystery around the man.

  Suddenly Brant stopped and dropped to the ground. Oraeyn dropped to his stomach, lying flat and wondering what Brant had seen. Brant began to inch backwards and Oraeyn slipped back as well. When they had retreated a distance, Brant crept behind a tree, motioning for Oraeyn to follow him. Oraeyn obeyed without a sound and crouched, his heart beating rapidly.

  “A skirmish line of Dark Warriors,” Brant whispered, “posted to screen the movements of their larger force. We now know where one attack will come from. The problem for us is how to get around them and how long will that take. If only there was some way...”

  Brant trailed off and Oraeyn waited patiently to find out what their next move wo
uld be. He hoped Brant would not suggest that they take on all of the Dark Warriors who were hiding in the grove of trees up ahead. Then Brant got an odd look on his face; if Oraeyn had not known any better, he would have called it mischievous.

  Brant began to move away from the tree to the left. “Follow me,” he whispered.

  Oraeyn felt relieved. He knew Brant would never do something so foolish as taking on a whole army of Dark Warriors single handedly, but he still felt better knowing they were going to go around, rather than through, the army. After they had retreated deeper into the forest away from Fortress Hill, Brant stopped again but did not crouch down. He glanced around and muttered something to himself.

  Suddenly he whispered, “Ah, that just might work.”

  Oraeyn followed Brant’s gaze and saw that the man was gazing intently at two trees. “What?” he asked quietly. Brant shook his head and put a finger to his lips.

  Working swiftly, Brant pulled a length of rope from his pack. Then he went over to the two trees; they were standing quite close to each other. One of them was a young sapling, and the other was not much more than an old hollow log that was standing on one end. Brant knocked lightly on the hollow tree and smiled in satisfaction when it echoed back a little bit louder than he had knocked, it also seemed to move a bit, which Brant noted with a nod. Then he handed the rope to Oraeyn.

  “When I give the word, I need you to loop one end of the rope around this sapling, and then pull the rope as taut as you can and tie it off at the base of the nearest tree. You’ll understand shortly.”

  Oraeyn was starting to wonder if Brant had lost his mind. Mystified, he watched as Brant carefully bent the sapling towards the ground, away from the hollow tree. He pulled until the top of the sapling was almost touching the ground. Finally, his muscles straining at the exertion, he nodded to Oraeyn.

  “Now!” he gasped.

  Understanding taking shape, Oraeyn quickly tied one end around the sapling, pulled the rope tight, and then secured the other end. When Brant was satisfied that the knots were tight, he let go of the sapling. He stood back and surveyed their work critically, then nodded.

  “It’ll do,” was all he said.

  Then, using his knife with painstaking care, he cut through the rope until there were only two remaining strands securing the sapling in place. Oraeyn watched in growing fascination, but he remained mystified about what Brant was trying to accomplish. Brant glanced up at him.

  “Now, give me your rope,” he said, still talking in a hushed whisper.

  Oraeyn pulled out his coil of rope and handed it to Brant. His question was written all over his face, but Brant did not speak.

  He tied Oraeyn’s rope tightly around the area that he had frayed and then he motioned for Oraeyn to follow him. Uncoiling the rope as they crept through the underbrush, Oraeyn was bursting from curiosity, but knew his questions would have to wait. Brant stopped when they reached the full-length of the rope.

  “I am going to need help with this,” he said. “Stand in front of me and hold the rope with both hands like I am.”

  Oraeyn did so, and Brant continued, “Good, now, when I count three, tug on the rope sharply with all your strength, ready?”

  Oraeyn nodded, reaching forward with his arms while leaning backward with the rest of his body. “Ready,” he said.

  “All right then, one, two, THREE!”

  Together they tugged the rope with all their strength. The rope tightened and then went slack, causing them both to tumble backwards. Before Oraeyn could get up, he heard a loud cracking noise like thunder, followed by a mighty crash. A flock of birds flew up into the air, frightened by the noise.

  “Good, it knocked the hollow one over,” Brant said as he stood up. “I didn’t even hope for that.”

  Brant hurriedly coiled up the rope and tucked it back into Oraeyn’s pack. Oraeyn turned to him, not quite understanding what had just happened. Before he could ask any questions though, Brant put a finger to his lips and pointed back the way they had come.

  “Listen.”

  Oraeyn grew very still and listened as hard as he could. For a moment he heard nothing but the beating of his own heart, then he heard voices and shouting and the underbrush being trampled. Oraeyn’s eyes widened and he made a small noise that sounded like, “oh!” Then he looked at Brant and grinned.

  Brant smiled back then turned sober again. “That will not distract them for long, but it may buy us a little space and a little time. Hopefully it is enough.”

  Continuing now through the recently vacated terrain, they hurried their way to the far side of Fortress Hill. Suddenly there was a sound like the roar of the sea followed by the war cry of their enemy.

  “The Dark Warriors have sprung their trap, Arnaud had better move soon,” Brant said. “Come, now is the time!”

  Abandoning stealth they raced to the battlefield where the fighting raged the hottest. The new forces of Dark Warriors were fresh and rested, and now they outnumbered the knights ten to one. Then there was another mighty shout from either side of Fortress Hill. The Dark Warriors slowed their attack and stared around in confusion as the rest of Arnaud’s army raced down onto the battlefield.

  “Caught in their own trap,” Brant muttered, then pointed. “See that man? The one wearing the crown?”

  Oraeyn’s eyes darted to the person that Brant was talking about. He squinted, even at a distance the man’s features were familiar. “Yes,” he replied. “What about him?”

  “That is their leader,” Brant said, and then he drew his sword.

  Oraeyn did not ask how Brant knew this; there was no time for questions. Instead, he drew the Fang Blade, and it hummed as it left its sheath. The sword seemed to glow in his hand, and it throbbed with energy. Oraeyn looked at the sword for a moment in awe. He knew he would never get over how the sword could seem like a living thing and yet become a part of him at the same time. He did not have much time to wonder over the phenomenon, however, because Brant began to race towards his opponent, and Oraeyn followed close behind.

  Fighting their way through, they carved a path for themselves, ever moving towards the center, where the leader of the Dark Warriors stood. Brant’s blade flashed again and again, and Dark Warriors fell away from his sword as he cut his way through. He strode forward with a purpose, towards the center of the battle. The few men who tried to stop his advance soon discovered their error, but by the time they realized it, they were already dead.

  Oraeyn struck out with his own sword and found himself fighting with confidence and skill borne of necessity and the reflexes of his training. His sword was light and easy to handle in his grasp, and it swung through the air in patterns almost as though it were moving on its own. He did not follow Brant through the fighting; he just cut his way through whatever enemy he found before him. His blade twirled and danced as he moved through the Dark Warriors.

  The men of Aom-igh fought hard. Oraeyn saw that many were not even knights, they were just patriots who had joined the battle. But even though they had taken the Dark Warriors by surprise for a few precious moments, they were still outnumbered three to one, and the Dark Warriors began to force them back.

  Oraeyn was bleeding, but he could not recall being wounded. He fought furiously, with more skill than he had ever believed he possessed, and still the Dark Warriors pressed forward. Oraeyn swung his sword fearlessly and with every last bit of his strength, but he knew it was not enough. They were losing ground, and the Dark Warriors kept coming.

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  Yole paced back and forth along the top of Fortress Hill restlessly. He kept his eyes on the battle, never taking them from the scene below. He had shouted in triumph when the knights of Aom-igh had swarmed in and taken the enemy by surprise. But he could see that, though the Dark Warriors had lost a little precious ground in their surprise, they were now pressing back with renewed efforts, and he could see from a distance what Oraeyn sensed in the midst of the
fray: the Dark Warriors would prevail.

  As he watched, Yole spotted Brant, he was striding through the enemy as though towards a specific goal. He was making slow progress, for the enemy continued to attack him from all sides. He cut many of them down and continued cutting through the enemy, but the Dark Warriors seemed to be growing stronger as the battle wore on. Yole’s eyes swept the battlefield, and he found Oraeyn. The young man’s golden blade was flashing brightly as he fought. He fought tirelessly, but the enemy continued to come on, and Yole knew that it was only a matter of time.

  He paced the top of the hill, feeling both restless and powerless. He wished there was something he could do. He thought about what Rhendak had said, that he was a dragon. He wished he knew how to turn himself into a dragon. He continued to pace, his thoughts a turmoil of fire and sharp claws and flight. Suddenly, a woman near him screamed. Yole stared at her in confusion. The woman was looking at him in horror, her eyes were huge and her face pale. He looked towards Kamarie to ask her what the trouble was.

  Kamarie had turned to see what the commotion was, when she saw what the woman had screamed about, she almost screamed herself.

  “Kamarie?” Yole asked in concern, his voice sounding too loud in his own ears.

  Kamarie seemed to gather her wits back to her as she stared. “Yole? Is that you?”

  “Of course it’s me. Why is everyone acting so strangely?”

  “Well,” Kamarie spoke slowly, “you’re a dragon!”

  Yole blinked at her, and then he lifted his hand and looked at it. The great, curved claws gleamed up at him, and he smiled, baring long golden teeth in a terrifying grin. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that two huge, leathery wings were protruding from either side of his back. He pumped them experimentally, and he rose off the ground. Delighted, he swooped up into the air and flew over the magical barrier that Zara had created. He was amazed to find that he could see the barrier clearly now, could see how it had been made, and he instinctively knew how much strength Zara had poured into it. He could see how Dylanna and Leila were maintaining it. The barrier was weakening, as were the wizardesses. In an instant he saw how the wall could be made to stand on its own. Without knowing exactly how he did it, Yole reached out and pulled a blanket of wind around the barrier, and then he reinforced the wall with a deep, living flame. Satisfied that the barrier would hold itself together now, he flew down towards the battle.