Dauntless

by Dina L. Sleiman

  He kept his breathing calm and his wits about him as he slid off the horse and surveyed the area. A bare patch of earth with gashes and upturned clods of dirt gave evidence to a struggle. He picked up a clump and let it sift through his fingers. At least she’d been alive to fight.

  From the area of attack, indentations indicating giant horse hooves headed off toward Castle Wyndemere. He would follow them to the end and find every piece of information he could.

  Still quoting David, Allen dared not think what this might mean. Not until he had all the information. And he dared not think what it might mean for his heart if Merry had been taken from them for good.

  The next day, Allen shuffled back toward camp, dreading the news he must share with the others. The midday sun trickling through the trees did little to lift his spirits. He kicked at a pile of leaves for the satisfaction of listening to them crunch and watching them scatter in the breeze. Then he stopped and closed his eyes, seeking to gather himself before facing the children.

  The previous evening he had followed the tracks for hours, with only the moonlight to show the way. They led him to the north tower of the castle. From there he had camped in the woods until he could enter the town gates at sunrise and collect whatever gossip might be available.

  Although he caught whispers of a mysterious guest at the castle, no one had any information beyond that, at least not for an outsider like him. The one bright spot in the morning was that the surprising description of guest indicated she was still alive—and likely not in prison. He had no idea which would be worse—for them to think her an outlawed noblewoman or a notorious thief. The situation seemed dire either way.

  He’d left the horse in Endsworth, near its home, and trekked the long way back to camp alone, with far too much time to ponder. He longed to gather their forces to attack the tower, to save Merry and prove he was the hero she deserved. But he knew, once again, he needed to act in the best interest of the group, not himself.

  And beyond all of that, he had been struck with the awful realization that he would not be departing to fight in the north anytime soon.

  Opening his eyes again, he blinked until the forest came into focus, then he trudged over the rise and down the other side. Melancholy faces filled the clearing. No children dashed about or giggled today.

  Red stood first and crossed to greet him. “The news is not good?”

  “Not good. Gather the elders.”

  Red nodded soberly.

  Allen tossed down his supplies near the main hut and splashed his face in the water barrel. A gentle touch whisked his shoulder. For a breath, he hoped against hope that it might be Merry.

  “Can I get you some food?” asked Kate.

  “I’ve no appetite, but thank you. Perhaps after the meeting.”

  “As you wish.” She disappeared into the hut.

  Allen glanced about. Most of the elders must already be inside. A few of the younger men had taken over the watch.

  Red approached and nodded again. “I think we’re ready for you.” He looped an arm over Allen’s shoulder and led him through the door, nudging him in the direction of Merry’s stump.

  All eyes focused on Allen, somehow begging him to fill the tragic void.

  And every fiber within him longed to be the strong leader they craved. He situated himself on Merry’s stump. Though the urge hit to sigh aloud, he pulled himself up regally instead, as Merry herself might do in such a situation. “I’m afraid I bring you dire news. To the best of my assessment, Merry has been abducted, perhaps arrested, and taken to Castle Wyndemere.”

  He shared his tale, from finding the bow and arrows in the woods to spying in the town.

  “And you’re certain she’s alive?” asked Robert, his voice full of hope.

  “In truth, I am certain of nothing, but it seems the reasonable conclusion.”

  “You’re sure that there is no more information to be had?” Red ran a hand over his face in frustration.

  “Not at the moment. Not in the time I allotted for the task.” Should he have done more? Did he give up too soon? But he had to think of the well-being of the whole group. Not only Merry. Not only himself. No matter how much it might pain him.

  “Well then. Let’s gather the men.” Cedric jumped to his feet. “We have to get her out of there.”

  James cheered in support, and they all began to stir, but when Allen held up a steadying hand, they settled back into their seats without question. “Not yet, Cedric. It is clear that our position has been compromised. As much as we will hate to do it, both Lady Merry and tactical wisdom would insist that we move camp first.”

  “But we can’t just . . .” Jane’s mouth gaped.

  “Please.” Kate pressed a hand to her stomach.

  Robert stood now. “No, Allen is correct. We must see to the well-being of the children, of the whole group, first. We cannot undertake a dangerous mission in town if we’re worried about your safety.”

  Now Allen truly wanted to sigh. In relief this time. Although he had not voiced it even to himself, a subtle fear had niggled at him all morning that they might not see things his way, that without Merry’s confident leadership skills, the group might fall apart. So far matters had proven quite the opposite.

  “But once we’re settled, you’ll fetch her, right? Everything will be fine—won’t it?” Jane’s eyes filled with tears.

  Kate embraced her, clearly needing comfort as much as Jane.

  “We will certainly go after her.” Allen leaned forward on the stump, in a manner he hoped would reassure them that all was well. “Today we will pack and send a team to find a new location deeper in the woods. Tomorrow we shall move. The next step will be reconnaissance to plan our mission. Hopefully by that time she will have been there long enough that we will be able to gather more useful information from the castle servants.”

  Robert moved behind his sister, Kate, to offer her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

  Kate grabbed hold of Robert’s hand but kept her gaze fixed on Allen. “But you didn’t answer the other question. Will it all turn out well?”

  Allen smiled at her with sympathy. “Kate, I will not make empty assurances. But this I promise you—we shall all be praying night and day. I know that God will see us through this and give us strength.”

  Although he could not assure them of what they wished, his short speech seemed to rally the young women. They both sat up straighter and wiped off their faces.

  Cedric stood. “I would like to volunteer to search for a new location. I always was the champion at hiding games.”

  Allen chuckled at the reminder that once upon a time they had all been happy, carefree children playing together. “That you were, my friend. Excellent idea. And Robert will go with you, of course.”

  “And take young Gilbert,” Jane suggested. “He’s clever as can be, and I’ve noticed how a child often sees the world with different eyes.”

  That familiar peace filled Allen’s chest. “Perfect. That should do. The rest of us have a lot of work before us today.”

  “But can we not do anything at all for Merry?” James clenched his hands so hard that his knuckles turned white. “We have to try something.”

  “Pray and plan,” Allen said. “My guess is we shall need to find a way into the castle without getting our necks wrung. We will never overtake the armed guards on brute strength.”

  “Ah,” said Robert, “but let us not forget. We are the cunning Ghosts of Farthingale Forest. We will do this thing, for Merry’s sake.”

  Cedric rubbed his palms together. His eyes sparkled. “I know who can get into the castle with little explanation.”

  “Do not say it,” Jane warned, wagging a finger at him.

  “Oh, I think I will.” A grin spread across Cedric’s face.

  Allen felt that inner nudge of reassurance. “Cedric, I think you might finally get your wish. And I’ve been working on that new set of tumbling tricks with Sadie these past days. She’s quite impre
ssive.”

  “Ho!” Cedric stood and punched the air. “We will be a troupe of traveling performers at last.”

  The others began to buzz with the excitement of it all.

  A lute in the corner of the room that Jane oft used to quiet the children caught Allen’s gaze, and a plan began to form in his mind. For now they would make sure the children were safe and that Merry was indeed held prisoner in the castle.

  But if all the pieces fell into place, his scheme just might work.

  Chapter 12

  Several days after her capture, Merry sat gazing out the window once again. Staring over the treetops on a dreary and overcast afternoon, wondering what mission her men might be on. Had they moved to a new hideaway deeper in the forest? Had the little girls cried when told they must leave their home yet again?

  How she hated being helpless. She wanted to scream, punch something, smash something. . . . But she exercised restraint, as always.

  Her life in the tower had fallen into a miserable sort of monotony. She looked about at the books, quills, and journal that Timothy had supplied her with. Bribes, or an attempt to keep her out of trouble? A weaving loom sat in the corner with a tapestry barely started, and a lute lay unused upon her bed. Most of the time she sat staring out this window, other than during her daily visit from Timothy, when he would lecture and cajole as she endured in stone-cold silence.

  Matilda started up a tune again from the corner. A happy song of spring that Merry recalled from her childhood, when she still believed in new life and dreams of romance. The maid had proven to be the one comforting aspect of her otherwise maddening existence. Today she worked on resizing the apricot gown from the trunk, which had proven far too large for Merry’s slight frame.

  Perhaps her captors thought blood-drenched apricot silk would somehow look more shocking whipping in the wind than the blue velvet as she hung from a spike upon the city walls.

  She peered down at the castle courtyard again, looking for any means by which she might escape. Any lapse in castle security. Any stranger who might come to her aid. So far, her only idea had been that, if she had a long enough rope together with a bow and arrow, she might shoot the arrow tied to the rope into a support beam of the building just beyond the wall. Given a firmly set arrow, complete darkness, and a lazy guard, she might be able to use the bow to slide down the rope and over the wall.

  But she had none of those supplies.

  She perused the guard staff again. That one by the gate never wavered, never closed his eyes. Unlike the young soldier near the entrance portal, who appeared to often wander off into his own dreams. But of the guards beyond her door, she knew little.

  Then she heard it—the sound of a crested lark. A lone figure in a dun-colored mantle and hood stood beneath her. He had passed by her window three times now, but she had not dared to hope. The figure lifted his face and pushed back the hood only a bit.

  Allen! His waving, sandy hair and handsome features had never appeared so precious to her. If he were not thirty feet beneath her, she might have kissed him right then and there.

  They had found her! They were planning something. If anyone could plot a way to get her out of this place, the shrewd Ghosts of Farthingale Forest could. Hope swelled in her chest, a soft, warm tide battering against her cold stone of a heart. Melting it and reminding her not to give up while a chance yet remained.

  She pressed a hand to her mouth to cover the smile she could not hold at bay.

  He looked to and fro. The observant guard on the gate was occupied checking an entering cart. With the stealth of the legendary ghosts, he tossed a rock up to her. She reached out and snatched it in one neat, silent move, even as he pulled up his hood and slipped away.

  Restraint, stealth, and anonymity had worked in their favor once again. They would prevail, and Merry would escape.

  She tucked the rock—with note attached—into her sleeve and strolled to the bed, where she hid it behind an open book and read. “Find a way to be at supper in the great hall tomorrow. We are coming. Never fear!!!”

  Supper in the great hall. Would Timothy let her out of this room? Surely not, considering the way she had been treating him. Perhaps the time had come to switch tactics.

  She surveyed the room again. He had done everything in his power to make her comfortable. His provision of the comforts of home—her old home—had touched her. He seemed sincere in his desire to help her—even more sincere in his frustration over his inability to do so. Perhaps if she cooperated, used a bit of honey as bait, she might persuade him to take her to supper in the castle great hall. When he next visited, he would be met by a different Merry.

  But for now, what she needed more than anything was tactical information. And she knew where she would get it.

  After tucking the rock beneath her mattress, she sighed and twirled her hair about her finger, as if pining over a lover. “Matilda, what can you tell me of this Timothy Grey? Captor or not, he is a handsome man. Do you not think so?”

  Matilda ceased her humming but continued sewing. “What of him, m’lady? Seems ye know him better than us all.”

  “Not so. I met him during childhood, but this man is not the boy I remember. What is his position here?” She sat forward on the bed, propping her chin upon her folded hands.

  “I suppose there’s no harm in telling ye. He began as a scribe, but m’lord took a fancy to him. He’s in charge while Lord Wyndemere is gone, he is, and he’s vowed to capture the ghosts in his absence.”

  Just as Merry hoped, three days and a bit of friendship had loosened the woman’s tongue.

  “Quite the ambitious young man, that one is,” Matilda continued. “Ninth child was never good enough for him. Oh no. Everyone’s been speaking of it. Sharp as a whip. Some say he planned to marry an heiress, but she died. I can see how that might confuse a body.”

  As she suspected. Timothy had wanted power, wealth, and position. Never Merry herself. And now he would use her in a different way to achieve them. She had been a fool to ever think he loved her. He loved only her dowry. But she would not make that mistake again.

  Matilda returned to her humming, so Merry dared another question before she lost the woman entirely.

  Merry tapped a finger to her temple. “So, does he believe I am one of the ghosts? Is that what people are saying? Is that why he has kept me here?”

  Matilda stuck her needle into the dress and turned her full attention to Merry. “Well, now, they’re not supposed to know anyone is here at all. Except of course everyone does—castle gossip and whatnot. Not from me, mind ye. They’re saying ye were a prisoner of the ghosts, and Mister Grey done stole ye away. That ye’re a lady, and he’s keeping your name a secret to preserve your reputation. They’ve said a bit about how the ghosts must have used ye wrong, but I won’t go into those particulars. Somehow I suspect that part ’tis not true. Ye have such a sweet innocence about ye.”

  Matilda was astute, yet such rumors about the castle could earn Merry sympathy. She pondered how she might answer the woman. In this case, she could speak the truth.

  Her maidenly virtue might not have been taken from her, but almost everything else that mattered had. “I have suffered much in my life, Matilda. Much has been stolen from me. Do not mistake a pretty face for a life of ease. Many never bother to look beyond a set of striking features to the haunted soul beneath. It is a curse at times.”

  Consternation twisted Matilda’s pleasant face. She put down the gown and crossed to Merry, kneeling before her. She cupped Merry’s chin in her palm and stared deep into her eyes.

  Merry needed contrive no performance. She only thought for a moment upon her mother, upon her father and brother, upon the charred remains of the castle and village she had seen from a distant hilltop.

  “Ye speak true, child.” Tears filled Matilda’s eyes to match the ones in Merry’s. “I saw only your spitfire ways. And as ye said, your lovely face. I never paused to look further. I’ve spent much of my life env
ying those with more money, more power, more beauty, but I’ve suffered little enough pain. Have me a good husband, I do, and children and even my first grandbaby. I’ve lost less than many, I suppose.”

  “Pain and sorrow are no respecters of persons.” Merry sighed. She had given this woman enough of a glimpse into her tormented soul to garner some sympathy. Now she must get ahold of herself before she fell to pieces. “Each morning I must gather every ounce of courage and strength within me, else I shall never make it. If I seem a spitfire, I cannot afford to be otherwise.”

  “I see that.” Matilda cleared her throat and swiped at her eyes. She moved back to her own chair and picked up the dress, but then crumpled it upon her lap and turned her attention to Merry again. “Tell me how I might ease your pain, m’lady.”

  Merry bit her lip, as if she must ponder for a moment. “I am going mad in this tower. I am going to beg Timothy Grey to let me attend supper in the great hall. If he asks your opinion, would you please support me in this?”

  “Of course. I’ll have a word with him myself, I will. He can’t expect to keep ye locked up here forever.” She eyed the door warily and dropped her voice. “I suspect he’s wanting to use ye as bait for those ghosts. But I see no harm in a meal or two on that account.”

  Nor did Merry. If indeed he intended to use her as bait, he must know her men would never consider storming the tower. But they might take a chance in the crowded great hall.

  This time she felt no need to hide her smile.

  Timothy frowned and raked his fingers through his hair as he twisted his way up the spiraling staircase of the dimly lit tower. Merry Ellison! Had ever a more exasperating woman walked the face of God’s green earth? Today would be his fourth day questioning her.

  Somehow he must coax her down to the castle proper for supper tonight. Recalling well how Merry loved both physical activity and music, he had arranged for dancing, along with her favorite dishes. With some good food and wine in her, the right atmosphere about her, perhaps he could cajole her into a better mood and win her trust once again.