Throne of Llewyllan (Book 2)

by Ben Cassidy

  Kendril said nothing, but turned again to go.

  “So that’s it?” Maklavir called after him. “You’re just going to leave her?”

  “She doesn’t need me,” said Kendril over his shoulder.

  The diplomat gave a dark laugh. “Doesn’t need you? You really are blind, aren’t you? Haven’t you seen the way she looks at you?”

  Kendril stopped. He looked back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Maklavir sighed. “She’s smitten with you, Kendril. She has been since the first day I met her.”

  “That’s crazy,” responded Kendril angrily.

  “It’s true,” said Maklavir.

  The Ghostwalker took a step towards Maklavir. “I’ve taken a vow. She knows that.”

  “Yes,” Maklavir continued dryly, “well I’ve rarely found women to think logically about anything, especially love. You can’t just leave like this, Kendril. I’m telling you that as a friend.”

  “You’re not my friend,” Kendril said sharply.

  “I see,” returned Maklavir. “So who exactly are your friends, Kendril? That mule of yours? Those pistols you carry around?”

  Kendril’s lip curled. “What does it matter to you?”

  The diplomat leaned forward, his eyes filled with intensity. “Have you for one moment stopped to consider what she is going through? What she’s feeling right now? Talin’s ashes, man, the girl has just had her whole world collapse around her.”

  “She doesn’t seem to be doing too badly,” Kendril commented acidly.

  “You can’t seriously believe that.” Maklavir’s eyes flashed. “She needs our help and our friendship, Kendril, not our animosity. Especially you.”

  The Ghostwalker looked away for a moment, his face wreathed in shadow. For a long moment he said nothing.

  “I can’t help her.”

  “Why not?”

  Kendril turned his face back around, and Maklavir was momentarily startled by the expression on his face.

  “I can’t—” he said through clenched teeth, “because I’ve made a vow.”

  Maklavir stared at the Ghostwalker, stunned at the sudden change in him. “I see,” he said at last, his voice slightly shaken. “I won’t bring it up again.”

  Kendril nodded, looking away again. “Don’t,” he said.

  He turned and walked away.

  The soldiers had done their job well. Only seven bandits, including Torin and Kara, were alive. Three of them were wounded, one badly. All were being held on the western side of the clearing, out in the open grass. The nearest edge of the forest was at least fifty yards away, and soldiers in white uniforms were watching them constantly, though always staying at a distance.

  Escape, unfortunately, wasn’t much of an option, at least not under these circumstances. The three wounded men could barely stand, much less run, and the soldiers were vigilant in watching their group. Kara counted at least ten of the white uniforms within twenty yards, most with loaded crossbows. To make things even more difficult, all the bandits had had their arms tied, save for one of the three wounded men whose condition was so bad that the guards had taken pity on him. He lay even now in the grass a few yards away from Kara, moaning and weeping softly from the pain of his injuries. She tried to ignore it the best she could, but to no avail.

  Kara had no doubt what their fate was. They would be taken back to Llewyllan, held in prison for a short while, maybe given a trial, but undoubtedly executed in the end. It was the risk one took becoming a highwayman. The Howling Woods were generally safe territory for bandits and thieves of all kinds. No nation or kingdom had any control over the area, though both Llewyllan and Calbraith had long-standing (and conflicting) claims to it. Still, the risk of actual military units from either side entering the forest was almost unheard of.

  The royal symbol of Llewyllan, the peacock, was plastered on the uniform of each soldier, and that meant that they belonged to the Royal Guard, based out of the capital city of Balneth. The livelihood of the numerous bandit groups in the forest lay in the assumption that neither Calbraith nor Llewyllan would risk sending an armed force into the Howling Woods to rescue someone when a simple ransom would suffice. For the Llewyllan Royal Guard to openly track down and assault a small bandit camp implied a matter of utmost importance, perhaps one going to the top levels of their government.

  Kara looked over at her brother. “Torin?”

  The bandit leader didn’t respond, but sat motionless in the grass, his eyes looking dazedly at a group of dandelions. He seemed to be in shock. Earlier he had been mumbling something to himself, though Kara hadn’t heard what it was. She was starting to worry about him. He had always looked at himself as the father of these men, the one who was responsible for their livelihood. Now most of them were dead.

  A stiff breeze whisked through the grass, brushing against Kara’s trousers. She looked across the clearing, watching the soldiers’ tents ripple and pull in the wind. A figure suddenly caught her attention. It was the bearded scout. He pointed over in the bandits’ direction once or twice. It seemed like he was arguing with the soldiers.

  Kara leaned forward, her arms aching from the ropes that bit into them. She watched curiously as the bearded man turned, walking across the wafting grass in their direction. One of the soldiers walked behind him, his crossbow held at the ready.

  As the bearded man came close he slung a large leather bag off his shoulder.

  “Come to gloat?” asked Kara icily.

  Joseph gave a half-smile. “I see you’re just as cheerful as the last time I saw you.” He knelt down in the grass by the badly wounded man, and set the large bag in the grass to his side.

  The soldier with the crossbow remained standing several yards away, his weapon pointed at the captured bandits.

  Kara straightened herself in the grass.

  The guard with the crossbow immediately aimed at her, his eyes alert and suspicious.

  “I’d be careful, if I were you,” said Joseph without looking up. He pulled several small pouches and bandages out of the sack. “These soldiers are pretty jumpy. They almost didn’t let me come over here.”

  Kara glanced over at Torin. Her brother was staring off towards the forest, his face distant. She looked back over at Joseph.

  “So why are you here?”

  Joseph tugged gently at the man’s clothes, cutting them away where they covered his wounds. “To help.”

  Kara smirked. “Sure.”

  The scout began cleaning out the man’s wounds, applying various herbs and salves. He looked up at Kara. “Are there any others?”

  She started to respond, but felt the answer catch unexpectedly in her throat. She shook her head instead, looking back over towards the remaining bandits. “They killed everyone else,” she said.

  Joseph finished bandaging the man’s wounds. He wiped the blood off his hands with a hand rag. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

  “I’ll bet you are,” Kara responded.

  Joseph said nothing. He threw his things back into the bag, and moved over to the next wounded man. “Give me your arm,” he said.

  The bandit pulled back. “Stay away from me,” he snarled.

  Joseph held up his hands. “All right.”

  Kara looked over at him. “You must think a lot of yourself, huh?”

  The scout grabbed his bag again. “What do you mean?”

  She gave a sardonic smile. “Helping your former captors. That’s rich. You hand out food to widows and orphans, too?”

  To her surprise, the man smiled. “Only on my days off.” He leaned back on his heels. “I’m just trying to help, that’s all.”

  Kara snorted. “Help? Why?”

  Joseph shrugged. “It’s the decent thing to do.”

  “Decency doesn’t mean a lot out here,” she retorted.

  The scout slung the bag back over his shoulder. “You have to start somewhere.”

  Torin looked up suddenly, as if suddenly awaking from a d
ream. “Then start somewhere else,” he growled. “We don’t need your help here, and we don’t want it.”

  Kara glanced over at Torin, her face showing her surprise.

  Joseph gave the man a long stare, then nodded, rising slowly to his feet. “Have it your way.” He looked over at Kara.

  “Kara, right?”

  She nodded, a little taken aback. “Yes.”

  “Joseph.” He pulled down the brim of his hat. “If your other men change their minds, just tell the guards. I’ll do my best to patch them up.”

  He walked away, and the guard followed slowly behind him.

  “Good riddance,” came Torin’s voice from behind her.

  “He didn’t mean any harm,” Kara said, surprised by her own words. “Maybe we should have let him help.”

  Torin narrowed his eyes. “He and all those soldier-friends of his have helped enough for one day.” He looked away once more, his face clenched with rage and frustration.

  Kara started to open her mouth to argue, but thought better of it. She turned her head, looking back towards where Joseph was retreating in the distance.

  He turned, just once, and she thought she caught a glimpse of him looking back at her.

  Then he was lost amongst the tents of the Royal Guard.

  Chapter 2

  “You look like you’ve had it real rough.”

  Kendril walked across the straw and dung-covered floor, carefully making his way towards the third stall of the stable.

  Simon’s ears perked up as he saw his master coming. He gave a loud bray.

  Kendril wrinkled his nose, stepping around a pile of horse manure. “Yeah, I hear you. Quiet down.” He stepped over to Simon’s stall, and gave the animal a hard rub on the nose.

  The mule lashed his tail happily.

  Kendril looked down into the eating trough. “Fresh hay? Oh yeah, real rough.”

  Simon bumped his nose into the Ghostwalker’s chest.

  Kendril gave him another pat on the nose.

  “All right, settle down boy. We’re leaving soon. Here, I’ve got something for you. Though with all this hay I doubt you need it.”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a half-eaten apple.

  Simon took it eagerly, chewing noisily as he devoured it.

  “They didn’t have any carrots.” Kendril said, leaning up against the stall. He rotated his shoulder, wincing at the ache in his side. “Don’t get too comfortable.”

  Simon finished the apple, then began sniffing around in Kendril’s vest for more. He gave the Ghostwalker a questioning glance.

  “No,” said Kendril, “we’re not leaving with the others. It’ll just be the two of us.”

  The beast snorted.

  “Oh, really? What, are you going to miss Maklavir’s charming company?”

  Simon huffed loudly.

  Kendril chuckled softly. “Yeah, me neither.” He gave the mule a sharp glance. “Don’t tell me it’s her?”

  The animal dropped his head in shame.

  The Ghostwalker sighed, tapping the gate of the stall with his hand. “No attachments, Simon. That’s the rule. Especially with women.”

  The mule gave a plaintive whine.

  Kendril crossed his arms, staring at the trough. “Yeah,” he said after a moment, “I know.”

  There was a long silence, with only the sounds of the soldiers outside and the birds singing.

  “Am I interrupting anything?”

  Kendril looked up, startled.

  Serentha was at the far end of the stables, looking in through the open door. She stepped inside, negotiating carefully around some spilled chicken feed.

  The Ghostwalker looked back at the wall. He shrugged. “No. I was just seeing how Simon was doing.”

  She glanced at the mule. “He doesn’t look too bad.”

  Kendril looked over at her. “Are you kidding? Those bandits treated him like a king compared to the rest of us.”

  Serentha came up to the stall. She leaned over and scratched Simon behind one of his ears. The mule grunted happily. She looked over at Kendril.

  “I guess you’ll be leaving soon?” she said quietly.

  Kendril shrugged, kicking at some straw with his boot. “Who knows?”

  She gave Simon a final pat. “Oh, I almost forgot.” She reached behind her back, and her hand emerged with a carrot.

  Simon’s eyes widened.

  Kendril raised his eyebrows. “Where in Zanthora did you find that?”

  Serentha gave a demure smile. “Being a princess has its advantages.” She held out the carrot to the mule, who took it gratefully in his teeth. A second later he was munching it joyfully.

  The Ghostwalker frowned at Serentha. “What are you trying to do, make me look bad?” He gave the mule a friendly swat. “Just remember who owns you, you great dumb oaf.”

  The young woman glanced back at the door to the stable. “I should probably go. Bathsby seems to go crazy whenever I run around without an escort.”

  The Ghostwalker smirked. “As well he should. After all, who knows what kind of disreputable people you might run into around here?”

  She gave a half-smile. “I’ve heard there are Ghostwalkers out and about. It makes a poor girl’s heart tremble.”

  Kendril nodded grimly. “I’d definitely stay away from any of them.”

  “You’ve heard bad things?”

  “The worst. Things you wouldn’t believe.”

  She gave him a coy look. “You never know. I just might.” Her look dropped to the ground for a moment. “Look, Kendril, about earlier—”

  “Yes,” said Kendril suddenly, “I wanted to talk to you about that.” He paused. “I’ve decided to…come with you to Balneth after all.”

  Serentha looked up at him. “You have?”

  He glanced back at Simon, who was fishing around in the trough for more vegetables. “I have some business there I had…forgotten about.”

  She cocked her head. “Business?”

  He gave the straw another kick. “Yeah. So I thought I’d go with you after all, if that’s alright.”

  She smiled. “You can even stay in the palace, if you want. We have plenty of room.”

  Kendril nodded. “That would be nice.”

  Serentha gave Simon one last scratch on the nose. “Well, I should get going. If I know Bathsby we’ll be heading out soon. He doesn’t like to stay in one place too long.” She turned and threaded her way back to the door.

  Kendril watched her until she disappeared from sight. For several minutes he didn’t move, lost in thought. Finally he looked over at Simon.

  “Wipe that smile off your face,” he told the mule.

  The weather held all through the rest of that day and into the next, with the sun shining brightly and only a few tufts of clouds to obscure its warmth. The camp had packed up and left the clearing by late afternoon, as soon as Bathsby was convinced the road was clear of dangers. The entire ensemble was soon heading east down the forest road.

  Joseph offered his services as a scout, and before long was riding far ahead of the main column, galloping back periodically with his reports. Serentha rode in the royal carriage, and after much cajoling she managed to persuade Maklavir to ride with her and pass the time playing cards. On all sides of the carriage were soldiers of the Royal Guard. Lord Bathsby made sure several men patrolled the woods on each side in order to foil any further ambush plots.

  Towards the back of the column came the prisoners. They were all tied to one another with ropes in a line. Several guards rode on horseback nearby, watching the bandits’ every movement carefully. The thief who was too wounded to ride was thrown unceremoniously in the back of one of the supply carts that made up the rear of the column. Even here the soldiers took no chances, but posted guards over him at all times. Kara could do nothing but trudge wearily along the dirt road, looking vainly for any chance for escape. There was none.

  Towards the end of the column came Kendril, leading Simon
behind him. He walked with his rifle slung over one shoulder, his eyes constantly watching the forest to either side of him with an untiring vigilance. The nearest soldiers kept their distance from the Ghostwalker, casting suspicious glances in his direction.

  It was quite an ensemble of people, and one that was far too intimidating a target for any of the other groups of highwaymen that called the Howling Woods home.

  In the late afternoon of the following day the group left the Howling Woods, the dark trees of the forest gradually disappearing behind them. In front of the lumbering column the road stretched east over rolling plains, with the glimmering white peaks of the Shadow Mountains just visible to the south. Another spout of rain hit just before sundown, and the night was a long and cold one. The following day rose on the wind-swept plains bright and clear, however, and the weather soon turned warmer.

  The road continued east over the fields, and occasionally the column passed by a small town, where it was often greeted by playful children and barking dogs that followed the soldiers as far as they could down the road. Windmills dotted the landscape, their huge wooden fins turning slowly in the strong breeze that gusted perpetually over the golden grass of western Llewyllan.

  Everyone seemed to feel freshly invigorated by the change from the stuffiness and closeness of the woods, Serentha most of all. She laughed more easily, waving to the local children who ran beside the carriage and playing cards with Maklavir with increasing skill. Still, at moments her face would cloud over despite the bright sunshine, and Maklavir noticed that she was often to be found glancing back towards the rear of the column.

  It was towards the end of the third day when Joseph, riding far ahead of the rest of the group, noticed a group of horsemen in the distance, riding swiftly west down the road. As they got closer he noticed that there were about a dozen or so, the feathers in their hats fluttering in the breeze. The banner of Llewyllan flew in their midst.

  He turned his horse around, and galloped swiftly back towards the head of the princess’ column.

  Lord Bathsby rode out in front, his blue hat buffeted by the steady wind.