“No,” Terrwyn replied. “We are resting the horses for a bit. We should get out and walk around a little and stretch our legs while we’re halted.” Taite nodded as she stretched, lifting her arms high above her head and yawning.
Terrwyn climbed out of the carriage. It felt good to stand. She stood with her hands on her hips and twisted her back to stretch it out. The seat and bumpy ride were wearing on her. She held out her hand and helped her little sister climb down from the carriage. Taite stepped onto the top step and then jumped from there to the ground. She smiled up at Terrwyn who was still holding her hand.
“I’m going to talk to the guards,” Terrwyn told her. “Do not go too far.” Taite nodded and then ran off to the edge of the woods. Terrwyn walked around to the front of the wagon where she found Joss unhitching the horses.
“Highness,” Joss said with a nod toward her, but otherwise continued his work as if she were not there. He soon had the horses unhitched and took their bridles and walked them down to the river to drink. Terrwyn followed him. Valko was already lapping at the cool water. The horses bowed their heads down to the water and drank rapidly and with great thirst. Joss then began to check the legs of each horse. Starting from the thigh he would slowly move his hand down to the horses ankle so as not to startle the animal. He would then lift the horse’s foot and check the hoof and shoe. He dug some dirt and rocks out with a knife as he inspected them.
Terrwyn watched him without a word. Joss ignored her for the most part, but then she broke her silence. “How long do you think it will take us to get to Lattingham?” she asked him.
The guardsman squinted as he looked up into the sun. He then looked back down at his work as he spoke. “Most of the night, I imagine,” he told her. “We should get there around dawn.” Terrwyn continued to watch him without saying anything. “Something else on your mind, Your Highness?” Joss asked without looking up.
Terrwyn looked down at her boots. “Do you think any of the others survived?” she asked after a long pause.
Joss stopped his work and looked up at the Princess. “I hope so,” he said. “They are the best fighters in the kingdom. If anyone could survive an ambush like that it was those men.” Terrwyn nodded without looking up. “And,” Joss continued, “every one of them, down to the last man would have fought to the death to protect the Prince. So if any of them are alive, it’s probably your brother.”
Terrwyn looked up at him and smiled. She needed some hope. Something to hold on to. She loved her brother. He was her twin and they had been together since the womb. They were more than siblings; they were each other’s best friend. After losing her mother, and now her father and, most likely, everyone else she knew, save for Taite and these two guardsmen, she wanted desperately to cling to the hope that Erec was still alive.
“I’m going to hitch the team,” Joss said. “Will take me about ten minutes. We will need to leave soon after. We cannot continue at our current pace or we will wear out the horses. Normally, I’d suggest we camp for the night, but in this instance I think it best we keep moving.” Terrwyn nodded in agreement. Joss looked her in the eye. “But being on the move at night offers its own problems. Draks like it better at night,” he continued. “So do other things.” He swallowed. “I intend to leave the main road as much as possible and travel down farm roads and sheep paths when I can. I grew up not too far from here and know my way around.”
“I understand,” she said and turned to leave him to his work. “Thank you, Sir Joss,” she said over her shoulder.
Joss smiled to himself. “I am not a knight, Your Highness,” he said to her with an embarrassed little laugh.
Terrwyn stopped and turned around. She smiled at him knowingly. “You will be, very soon,” she said and then nodded at Leon. “Both of you and any that survived along with my brother.”
Joss looked down at his feet. “Thank you, Your Highness,” he said puffing his chest out a little at the thought of receiving a knighthood. He then cleared his throat, coming back to reality and returned to his work. As he walked the horses back to the carriage, he saw an old raft sailing down the river fifty or so yards out. He could see a large number of barrels. Must be a mash boat, he thought to himself, taking a shipment of the fiery brown liquor to Lattingham.
***
Erec awoke with the sun in his face. His vision was blurry and he rubbed his eyes. As they came back into focus, he saw men’s boots and stood up quickly. Too quickly. He stumbled backward and fell onto his rear. The men turned to look at him. Erec could not manage to stand and fought hard not to black out again. He felt hands move under his arms helping him to stand. He was seated on a barrel and realized for the first time that he was on a small boat sailing down the river. In front of him, Erec saw an old man handing him a cask of water.
“Drink this Sir Knight,” the old man said and Erec put the cask to his lips and drank deeply. He was parched. Erec regained his balance and the old man waved the others away and they walked back to the front of the boat. Erec lowered the cask from his lips.
“Thank you,” he said to the old man.
“You are quite welcome, Sir Knight,” the old man replied.
Erec looked at him puzzled. “Why do you think I am a knight?” he asked.
The old man laughed. “I have been around quite some time, Sir,” he replied. “That is a knight’s sword,” he said pointing to Sir Gwillym’s sword which was propped up against some barrels. “And your clothes aren’t exactly that of a fisherman,” the old man smiled a grin of black teeth.
Erec smiled back. “Very perceptive, Master…?”
“Verdid,” the old man replied. “Most call me Verd.”
“Thank you very much for rescuing me Master Verd,” Erec said. “You are correct,” he lied. “I am a knight of Avonvale.”
Verd nodded. “We kinda figured you was from Avonvale, ‘cause of the battle,” Verd said. “Must have been a hell of a thing to strand a knight this far from the city—on the banks of the river.”
Erec nodded. His thoughts drifted back to the battle the night before. He brought the cask to his lips again and drank. As he did so, he took in his surroundings. He was floating on more of a raft than a boat—large logs tied together with hemp rope. They were fairly close to the banks, not wanting to drift out too far into the river. The raft carried scores of barrels. There were three other men on the boat besides him and Verd, though one was not much more than a boy. Erec smiled to himself.
“This a mash boat?” he asked Verd.
“It is, Sir.” Verd said. “Would you like a swig or two? I imagine after the night you had you could use a taste.”
Erec shook his head. “Thank you, but no,” he said. He was trying to clear his head now and did not need mash clouding it for him again.
Mash was a very hard liquor made in the more rural towns and then sent down the river in barrels on these large rafts, called mash boats, to be sold at each port along the way. This one was quite full. “Where are we headed?” Erec asked Verd.
“First stop is Lattingham and then on down to Elwood,” Verd replied. “I’m just a passenger like yourself. Paid for passage down the river.”
“I will be getting off at Lattingham,” Erec responded.
The old man nodded, but then leaned in real close and spoke so that only Erec could hear. “Lattingham’s got nothin’ but traders and pirates. Not a place for a prince, Your Highness.”
Erec’s eyes widened. Then he whispered back, “You know who I am?”
Verd nodded. “I imagine the Wizard’s got a bounty on your head large enough for a man to buy his own castle,” he said. “Same for your sisters. Best you go on letting these men think you’re a knight lost from the battle. Better yet, a deserter.”
Erec glanced up at the other men on the boat. They were paying him only passing notice.
“Why don’t you come with me? I have secured passage on a ship docked at Lattingham which will take me south. A scurvy crew, no one will b
e looking for a prince among them,” Verd said. “The further you get from Avonvale the better. You keep sleeping on the river banks and some pirate will snatch you up for the bounty and you’ll be sold right back to the Wizard.”
Erec looked back at him. He considered the offer. “I appreciate the offer,” he said. “There is a royal navy ship docked at Lattingham waiting for me.”
Verd nodded at him. “Do what you think is best, of course.”
“How long until we reach port?” Erec asked.
Verd shrugged. “Probably about nightfall,” he said. “Maybe a smidge after.”
Erec looked out at the river banks and hoped his sisters were alright.
Chapter 12
King Alexandeon’s nephew, Lord Morgan, arrived at the castle at Avonvale sometime in the late afternoon. Three nights earlier, as Riversmeet burned, Morgan had received a visit from the Black Knight. Morgan had been in his chambers, bedding some young blond, whose name escaped him and was not important at all. What was important was her silky white skin and firm breasts. The shutters were open and the white sheer curtains fluttered in the cool night breeze. His door was locked from the inside, as was his custom when he was with a woman. A guard stood outside of his chamber door, but had a key, just in case. The men of the castle had been on the alert and the guard doubled. News was starting to drift down that an army of drakmere was on the move southward from Beagonia. No one was quite certain where it was headed, but Morgan had all of his men on alert just in case. He had a large army, almost as large as the King’s, but the thought of an army of drakmere made him nervous. It made everyone nervous. Of course, nothing could take Morgan’s mind off the drakmere better than a woman in his bed.
Morgan laid on his back, with the woman on top of him sitting erect, her back arched forward and her hands behind her head. Morgan’s eyes were closed as he ran his fingers over her soft smooth skin. When Morgan opened his eyes he saw him standing at the foot of the bed. Rayfen, the Black Knight, stood completely still and completely silent. He was dressed head to toe in black including black plate armor, black helmet with skull-shaped facemask, and long black cape. He held no weapon, his long sword hung in the scabbard at his waist. His arms dangled innocently at his sides. Morgan sat up and pushed the blond off of him so hard that she tumbled from the bed onto the floor with a shout.
Morgan had heard stories of the Black Knight, a dark-armored figure that moved too fast to be seen. According to the stories, no one had ever seen his face as it was always covered by a black helmet. Supposedly, he rode a fire breathing dragon. Of course Morgan did not believe that, because he did not believe in dragons. In fact, when he first heard the stories he did not believe many, if any of them. But here the man stood having apparently appeared out of thin air, cloaked totally in black as had been described in the stories. A quick glance showed Morgan that the door was still locked. The window was open, but Morgan’s chambers were high in the castle and his men would have certainly seen someone running around the castle walls with a long ladder.
Morgan leapt off the bed and started to shout for the guard outside of his door as he stared in disbelief at this man standing before him. But before the words could come out, the Black Knight held up a hand stopping him. For some reason, Morgan complied and did not cry out.
“I mean you no harm, Lord Morgan,” came a chilling voice from beneath the black skull.
Morgan did not take his eyes off of the man in black, but because he held no sword and was not an immediate threat, Morgan decided to hear him out. “What do you want?” Morgan asked.
“Perhaps you would like to dress,” the Black Knight asked him. Morgan looked down and realized he was standing beside the bed stark naked. The blond huddled at his feet holding blankets to cover herself, sitting still as a statue and hoping not to be noticed. But Rayfen did notice her. He looked down at her and hissed, “Leave and say nothing of this.” The woman complied. She quickly stood and grabbed her clothes. She did not even bother to put them on as she darted for the door, unlocked the latch, and opened it rushing out. The door closed quickly with a slam. The Black Knight watched her leave and then turned back to Morgan, who at this point had pulled his pants on and was buttoning up his white shirt.
“So, what is it you want, Sir…?” Morgan let it trail off, not knowing the Black Knight’s name.
“You may call me Lord Rayfen,” the Black Knight replied. “I am here to make you an offer.”
Morgan cocked his head to the side and looked at Rayfen as he finished buttoning the top button of his shirt. He then crossed his arms over his chest. “I am listening,” he said.
“You have heard of the Wizard, Tamesis?”
Morgan smiled. “Yes, but only recently. He claims to be the King of Beagonia after sacking it with an army of draks he somehow managed to pull from the swamps.”
“Indeed. And he will soon be marching that army of drakmere on Avonvale. Tens of thousands of them will descend on the city,” Rayfen informed Morgan.
Morgan was at first uneasy, but then thought better of it. Were draks really a threat? They were brainless, primal monsters that would not stay organized for long and their army would certainly collapse once it faced real warriors. “Look, this Wizard may have sacked Beagonia with a bunch of swamp lizards, but Avonvale is not some backwater kingdom. It is one of the most powerful Kingdoms in the Middle Realm. My uncle, King Alexandeon, can assemble quite a powerful army with all of his lords. And we would crush any army of draks.”
“Avonvale is more powerful than Beagonia. About as powerful as the Stromland?” Rayfen let the question hang and then continued. “The Stromland burns tonight. We have taken Riversmeet.”
Morgan swallowed hard. Was this true? He ignored the statement for the moment. “You said you were here to make me an offer,” Morgan reminded him.
“Yes,” Rayfen hissed and got right to the point. “The Wizard is prepared to make you King of Avonvale…” he paused, “…if you support him.”
Morgan considered this for a moment. Could the Wizard defeat Alexandeon’s forces? If so, he could be king. Or, more likely, he would order his men to attack their king, side-by-side with a bunch of draks, and his men would revolt and lop his head off. “No,” he replied. “My men would never attack their King.”
“You do not have to fight,” said the Black Knight. “Simply stay out of it. Do not send men to aid the city when we attack, and do not fight the Wizard after we have won.”
Morgan pondered this and nodded his head. “The Wizard will make me king and all I have to do is…nothing?” Morgan asked in disbelief.
“You control the second largest army in Avonvale, after King Alexandeon’s. If you aid the city, it will make the battle much less favorable to our side,” the Black Knight explained. “Furthermore, the Wizard wants the fight for the city to end the war for the kingdom. He has no desire to have to subdue the entire countryside. Naming you as the King frees him from that problem. You can exert your own claim to the throne. Surely your men would not revolt then.”
“But I would be King in name only. The Wizard would really rule Avonvale.”
“You would truly rule this Kingdom. You will simply have to swear fealty to the Wizard and come to his aid when called upon to do so.” Rayfen took a step closer to Morgan. “That is the carrot,” he said.
Morgan narrowed his eyes. “What is the stick?” he asked.
“If you will not swear fealty to him, the Wizard will kill you. If no Lord of Avonvale will accept the crown and kneel to the Wizard, we will do to Avonvale what we did to the Stromland.”
Morgan spoke slowly, softly, not sure he wanted the answer. “What did you do to the Stromland?”
The Black Knight released a raspy growly laugh. “There is no Stromland.”
Morgan let that sink in for a moment. The Black Knight stared at him, but did not move, waiting patiently. He really had no choice. If he refused, the Black Knight would most likely strike him down where he stood, Avon
vale would fall anyway, and the entire kingdom would be razed. However, if the King won, no one would know of this little conspiracy and Morgan would be safe. It seemed like a low risk, high reward proposition to accept the offer and a high risk, low reward proposition to refuse.
“I shall accept the Wizard’s most generous offer,” he said with a smile. “I will not engage my men in the battle for Avonvale, nor will we fight the Wizard if he wins.” Morgan then turned to find some wine. “Shall we drink on it?” he asked Rayfen, but when he turned to look at him the Black Knight was gone. Morgan quickly ran across the room to the window and peered out. There was nothing but darkness. He closed the shutters and latched them. A chill ran up Morgan’s spine and he poured himself some wine. Then some more. Morgan got very drunk. He began to wish the blond woman was still there, but it didn’t really matter. If this Rayfen was right and the Wizard won, Morgan would be king and then could have any woman he wanted.
The Black Knight had spoken truth. Word soon came that Riversmeet had fallen to the Wizard. Morgan then received a message from his uncle, King Alexandeon, beckoning him to Avonvale to defend the kingdom as the Wizard was marching south to the city with his army of drakmere. Morgan sent no reply and delayed in readying his men. He planned to ride in after the battle was decided. That way, no matter who won, Morgan would be safe. He could always lie about the hour he received the bird carrying the message or say he never received it at all.
Morgan began marching his men to Avonvale the morning after he received the King’s message, certain to arrive too late. He and his cavalry arrived that afternoon. His infantry still marched for the city. He rode through the streets of the city and saw the citizens of Avonvale cleaning and repairing the streets and buildings from the damage of the battle. He swallowed hard as he witnessed drakmere overseeing the work. He came to the castle and rode through the gates into the courtyard followed by his men. They stopped in the courtyard and dismounted. Morgan instructed his men to stable their horses, then went inside.
Dragon's Keep: The Complete Dracengard Series Page 10