The Red Knight

by Davies, K. T.

  “Perhaps Commander Trease is ill?”

  “If the Commander was ill, the King would have mentioned it.” Alyda folded the letter and tucked it in her tunic. “Did she have a letter for Talin?”

  “Prince Talin? No, I don’t think so, Captain.

  “Have a care, Squire Turlowe. Go wake Lieutenant Vysten. Tell her to sound the call to arms and when you’ve done that, fetch my armour.”

  Talin elbowed Bear in the ribs. She stopped mid-yawn and gave him a puzzled look, completely unaware of the noise she was making or that the officers of the Hammer were staring daggers at her.

  Alyda shook her head; behind her, hanging above the fireplace, the great Sea Drake skull cast its baleful, empty eyed stare over the gathering. “…and the Company is to ride to Gallen Arth and stay there until I return from Weyhithe with further orders. I’ll be accompanying Prince Talin back to the city. Lieutenant Lorhine; give this to Captain Vorsten.” She handed Lorhine a letter.

  Kieran addressed the Captain, but cast a pointed glance at Talin. “You’re riding to Weyhithe without an escort?”

  “It’s heart-warming to see how much they care, don’t you think?” Bear whispered to Talin.

  Talin shushed her. He wanted to hear what Alyda had to say; see if she could shed some light on why his parent’s hadn’t seen fit to tell him what was going on.

  “We’ll ride with the Company as far as Kellimarsh Bridge where we’ll be met by a detachment from the Fifth.”

  Kieran snorted. “So you are going without an escort.”

  Laughter rippled through the group. Talin was aware that the 5th weren’t called ‘Rusties’ because of their russet and silver surcoats. More unkindly, it was because their weapons were said to be rusty from lack of use. Talin knew the Hammer well enough to know they were only joking, but he felt sorry for the red faced knight who had to stand there and endure their mockery.

  “Mean bastards,” said Bear, a note of genuine sympathy in her voice. “The poor thing looks like she’s going to cry.”

  “Alright, that’s enough,” Alyda ordered. “You now all know as much as I do. Are there any questions?” There was a general negative rumble.

  Alyda clasped her hands behind her back. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t think we’ll have to go far to find trouble.”

  She avoided naming his uncle directly, but everyone knew who she was talking about. What a family, thought Talin, ashamed of the blood in his veins.

  By midday the Company was saddled up and ready to leave the Arth. Dark clouds roiled overhead, and a dense brume had rolled in from the Chase casting all the knights as shadows. Talin shivered; ahead of him Alyda was giving some final instructions to the garrison watch commander. Behind him, Rann Lacgarde unfurled the Company standard. The bright scarlet banner blazed against the lowering sky. Bear rode over.

  “Sest’s teeth, you look glum,” she said. “You should be happy; you’re going back to civilisation. No more early mornings, no more drill, no more terrible wine,”

  Talin shook his head. Without looking behind her, Alyda raised her hand and the order rippled along the column to ride on. “I thought I’d be here until Midwinter. Why didn’t my parents tell me I’d have to leave before then? And why haven’t they told me what’s going on? I’m sick of being treated like a child.”

  Bear shrugged. “My parents never tell me anything either. Do you remember when I got back from that hunting trip to find the house full of eager suitors?”

  “Was that when you stole your parents’ carriage and threatened to marry that shepherdess?”

  She grinned wolfishly. “No. It’s the very last time I got worked up. Nobody was hurt, I hasten to add, but they haven’t tried to marry me off since then.”

  They laughed; some of Talin’s frustration ebbed away. “I know there’s probably a good reason why they’ve summoned me home, but I wanted to stay here for Midwinter…with Ali.

  “Ack, Midwinter’s a long way off. I’m sure you’ll be back in the arms of your beloved by then. Or, maybe they’ve filled the Arth with ugly princesses and have a Midwinter wedding in mind for you. Look on the bright side; whatever happens, you’ll always have me,” said Bear.

  The road to Weyhithe threaded its way through neatly quilted fields, hemmed on either side by miles of dry stone walls. It would take three days at a steady pace to reach the city.

  Alyda had made the journey a hundred times and would normally have enjoyed the leisurely ride, but not today. Something was wrong. It wasn’t the looming spectre of war, she was a warrior—fighting was what she did. It was the King’s letter. She knew it was stupid, but that damn note bothered her. She had no doubt that it was authentic, she knew the King’s seal and his handwriting; her commission bore both. It was the content—so brief and unsupported by orders from Trease. It just wasn’t right.

  “Something wrong?” asked Talin.

  She had forgotten that the Prince was riding beside her. His words broke into her thoughts. Yes damn it, something is wrong. She wanted to say. But as much as she wanted to talk to him about the letter—about her doubts, there was no way she could explain something as tenuous as a gut feeling without sounding as stupid as she felt.

  She smiled. “No, Highness, everything’s fine.”

  When they set camp for the night, Bear noticed that the Rusty had camped slightly apart from the Hammer. She didn’t blame her; it couldn’t have been easy putting up with the constant jokes about her company, even if they were true. Bear popped a pebble of Pel and decided to go over and try to cheer her up. If nothing else, it would give her something to do while Talin was off with Captain Stenna, supposedly exercising their horses.

  “Dervla, isn’t it?” Bear asked, startling the knight who was unsaddling her horse. The poor thing was in a bad way, she stank of fear.

  “Oh, I didn’t hear you.” She tossed the saddle on the ground and let it lie where it fell. “Aye, I’m Dervla.”

  A knight sitting nearby who was watching shook his head on seeing her rough treatment of the saddle. Dervla didn’t notice. The girl didn’t look at all used to long hours of riding and was quite obviously worn out.

  Bear smiled brightly, the warmth of the Pel spreading through her limbs, easing the tension building behind her eyes. “I wondered if you needed a hand with anything.”

  Dervla’s expression hardened. “Why? Because I’m a Rusty and therefore incapable?”

  “No, because you’re on your own and you look done-in.”

  The knight sighed, her shoulder’s sagged. “I’m sorry…you’re right. I am tired, but I can manage, my Lady.”

  “Call me Bear. I think we’ve met before, possibly in Weyhithe, but I confess—I have a rotten memory for anything useful.”

  Dervla unpacked her bed roll and sat down. “Aye, you’ve seen me before. I’ve guarded the Prince’s quarters on more than one occasion.”

  “Ah. Of course. Please allow me to apologise for anything offensive I may have done or said. I was probably drunk.”

  “No need to apologise. We Rusties can be relied upon to never see or hear anything. Ask the Hammer.”

  Bear laughed, so did Dervla, but there was flint in the knight’s eyes, and sharpness in her tone of voice.

  “You mustn’t take their teasing to heart; they don’t mean any harm. Their humour’s a bit rough is all, like them.”

  “What, the Hammer?” Dervla chuckled softly. “Oh, I don’t take them seriously, Lady Berwick, not in the slightest.”

  On the third morning out from Trelanlith, they reached Kellimarsh Bridge. As promised, an escort of twenty Rusties were waiting for them. Alyda wasn’t surprised to see that the Rusties were lounging on the grassy verge next to the road while their fat horses grazed unchecked. Their officer looked up and made a half-hearted attempt to dust crumbs from his chin before coming over to greet them.

  “Endis, isn’t it?” said Talin.

  The officer looked surprised. “Why yes, yes it is,
Highness,” he said and wiped his greasy hands on his surcoat before saluting. “Lieutenant Endis reporting, I’ve been sent to escort you to Weyhithe.”

  “What’s going on, Endis?” Alyda demanded. The man already irritated her and she’d only just met him.

  “I really don’t know, Captain Stenna; my orders are to escort you and Prince Talin back to Weyhithe.”

  Alyda’s sense of unease grew. The Hammer were about to head off without her, which alone was unusual, and the Rusties were being particularly sloppy, even by their low standards. It all added to her suspicion that something was wrong. Or was this Suvia catching up with her? Is this how battle fatigue started?

  Although it had never happened to her, she’d seen perfectly able knights break after one battle too many. It was rarely talked about, but could happen at anytime to even the most hardened veteran. It was said that something—the barrier between them and what they did—broke, allowing fear and doubt to flood in. The anxiety this caused often ended in deep despair, even madness. Was that what was happening? She dismissed the idea immediately; she knew herself, it wasn’t in her to break. There was something wrong; she just didn’t know what it was yet. Until she did, she’d keep her doubts to herself, but take a few precautions just in case the unsettled feeling manifested into a more tangible threat.

  While the 5th got ready to leave, Alyda let the Hammer stretch their legs and water their horses. She waited until Endis was talking to Dervla before taking Kieran to one side for a quiet word.

  “Stay sharp on the way to Gallen, and don’t take the main road. Head up toward Keeling Delve and take the road to Gallen from there,” she said with a smile on her face, just in case they were being observed.

  “Why, what’s wrong?” Kieran asked, adopting a similarly casual attitude.

  She shrugged. The sun was shining; the Hammer and the Rusties were exchanging friendly banter. Bear Berwick had decided to ride north with the Hammer and was saying goodbye to Talin. Nothing’s wrong, Kieran, I’m just going mad. “Just indulge me, Lieutenant, and take the back route.”

  Chapter Nine

  The sun was nothing but a smear of red and gold against the dark line of the horizon when Alyda caught sight of the towers of Weyhithe.

  The Arth road was completely deserted and the main East Gate was closed. As they got closer, she noticed the postern gate was open and the patrols on the wall had been doubled, confirming her suspicions that something was amiss.

  Endis rode ahead of the escort and spoke to the guards. Moments later, the main gates yawned open to admit them. They entered, watched closely by the knights on the wall. Once inside, the gates were closed and barred behind them. It was all very different from the last time Alyda had entered the city.

  The main street was almost deserted. The traders and merchants had closed up early and the only people about were small groups of warriors whose colours she didn’t recognise. They had the look of mercenaries about them, but that couldn’t be. Free Companies weren’t allowed into the city armed, let alone invited to perform guard duty or patrol the streets.

  She casually adjusted her belt, bringing her sword hilt within easier reach. Her escort didn’t seem concerned that the streets were empty or that unliveried warriors were hanging around. On the contrary, their jovial banter was a lively accompaniment to the clatter of hooves on the cobbles. Alyda had seen enough. She rode up to Endis and pulled across him, forcing his horse to stop.

  “Alright, what’s going on, Endis?” she demanded. “Who are those soldiers? Where is everyone?”

  “Ah, yes, I forgot to mention. There was an outbreak of swamp fever. The King drafted in some mercenary companies to keep the peace…people were starting to panic. It’s nothing to worry about; there weren’t many fatalities up until we left.”

  “And you forgot to mention this? Have you come down with fever, Endis?”

  His mouth twisted into a sneer. “It slipped my mind. I was more concerned with bringing our beloved Prince safely back to the city, like I’d been ordered. Of course, I’m sure you find that hard to believe of a Rusty.” His gaze flicked over her shoulder.

  Alyda went cold. “It seems I’m not mad after all,” she said.

  “W…what d’you mean?” A bead of sweat ran down Endis’s forehead.

  She ducked and half drew her sword, smashing the pommel into his face. A moment later, the world exploded in a blinding burst of light.

  Talin could tell something was bothering Alyda. Her face had been set like stone for most of the journey, and the only time she’d spoken since they’d left Kellimarsh was to question Endis. The Lieutenant was an amicable fellow, more than willing to look the other way when Talin and his friends wanted to sneak in or out of the palace, but he didn’t seem himself today. He looked nervous and on edge, and spent most of the time trying to avoid Alyda. He didn’t blame him; she wasn’t exactly hiding her contempt for the poor fellow. When they were nearing the Arth she pulled Endis over. The escort came to a halt, Dervla rode up beside him. She also looked worried.

  “I’m very sorry, Highness,” she said.

  “For what…?”

  If she answered he didn’t hear her because right at that moment, Alyda smashed her sword into Endis’s face. The Lieutenant rocked back in his saddle, blood pouring from his nose. Before her sword cleared the scabbard, a knight came up behind her and hammered a punch into the back of her head. She wasn’t wearing her helmet and the blow felled her instantly. She slid from the saddle. Nua reared and danced away from her fallen rider, the other horses nearby shied. Talin spat a curse and reached for his sword, which was when he noticed that Dervla was holding a knife on him.

  “Please—I don’t want to kill you,” she mumbled, waving the knife in her shaking hand.

  Without hesitation, Talin straight-armed her out of the saddle. The knife flew from her hand, and she grasped ropes of air before vanishing over the side of her horse. Furious, he drew his sword and spurred his mount over to Alyda, but a group of Rusties cut him off before he could reach her. Outnumbered, he was quickly overwhelmed and dragged from his mount. He lashed out with his sword—kicked, punched; even bit, but eventually he was taken to the ground and disarmed.

  Cursing, Endis swatted away assistance and stormed over to Alyda, blood pouring from his nose and mouth. He kicked her in the stomach. Talin heard her groan; she was alive at least.

  “Fucking, cunt!” Endis spat.

  “Don’t you touch her!” Talin roared, earning himself a punch in the face.

  “Get him on his feet and tie him up,” Endis ordered.

  When Talin was securely bound, the Lieutenant marched over and squared up to him. “Don’t try and order me, Highness. I no longer serve you, or your bastard father. D’you hear me?”

  “Touch her again, and I’ll kill you.” Talin didn’t shout, but pushed enough murderous anger into his voice that Endis backed away.

  “I’ll do what I fucking please.” Endis sneered. “Like you and that fat slut used to; whoring and drinking your way around Weyhithe while we had to guard you! Oath-sworn knights, treated like fucking nursemaids and never so much as a nod of thanks. You make me sick. I’ll dance a jig when the Guthani—”

  “Shut up, you fool,” Dervla hissed. She glared at Talin and limped towards him, knife in hand. He wondered what being stabbed would feel like and braced himself to find out.

  She didn’t stab him; she slapped him across the face. It stung, but it was better than a knife in the guts.

  “I owe you that,” she said and turned to the knights clustered around Alyda. “Take her to the Captain. You two—” she flicked the tip of the knife at two of the Rusties. “—take the Prince to his mother’s quarters. He gets there in one piece, or else you’ll answer to Corvinius. Same goes for her, got that?”

  The knights did as they were bid.

  Endis spluttered angrily. He grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. “Who the fuck died and left you in charge?”


  “You did,” said Dervla. Her arm jabbed forward, once, twice…three times.

  Endis gasped. A fat gob of blood splashed on his boot. Dervla stepped back, the bloody blade grasped tightly in her shaking hand. The Lieutenant sank to the cobbles, clutching at the mass of quivering guts that were spilling from under his breastplate. Dervla looked at Talin like she’d just been damned to the Void.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” she snarled at him. “More than a few of your ancestors earned their crowns doing worse.”

  Talin didn’t answer. There was no arguing with an unsheathed blade.

  She was lying on smooth stone, not cobbles, so she knew she wasn’t in the road. She tried to move and discovered that her hands were bound behind her back. Her head was pounding so hard that her eyes hurt. Reluctantly, she forced them open.

  A blinding pain knifed into her skull. When she could see past the tiny explosions of light, she saw that she was in the Council Chamber in Weyhithe Arth. The painful brightness was flooding through a ragged hole in the wall where the Rainbow Window should have been. Squinting against the glare, she tried to sit up. A wave of nausea swept over her, she fell back.

  “Brawling in the street, Captain Stenna? Whatever happened to the fabled Guards’ discipline?” It was Corvinius.

  The Captain of the 5th was sprawled across the King’s throne, surrounded by smashed bottles and broken glass from the window. Now that she looked she could see that the whole chamber was splattered with wine and blood, it also stank like a latrine. The moment she laid eyes on him all the little things that had bothered her since she’d received the King’s letter made horrible sense. She would not have believed it possible, but she couldn’t deny the evidence before her. Corvinius, an oath-sworn Captain of the Royal Guards, had turned traitor. I almost wish I was insane.