Fantasy Kingdom XXI

by Lisa Anne Nisula

  Amertious did stand up, but it was not a sign of respect. “Melissina, you must be...”

  Phichorian stood, cutting Amertious off before he could tell Melissina what she needed to be, “I will follow you as always, Princess.” He pressed his left hand to his right shoulder and bowed.

  Melissina inclined her head. “I thank you.”

  Charles wondered if he should do the same. If Phichorian was going to go along, he was too. As nice as Dean Shellwood seemed, Charles did not want to be alone in this world, even someplace that seemed as safe and normal as the university. He shifted his weight forward, ready to stand, but Phichorian pressed his hand on Charles’s shoulder. Charles took that to mean he should stay seated.

  Melissina was staring at Amertious. Amertious gave in with bad grace. He slapped his hand to his shoulder and bowed stiffly. “I will do as I am ordered.”

  “Then it is agreed.”

  Dean Shellwood came around from behind her desk. “I think it is wise. I will speak to the stables and have your horses and wagon ready and stocked with provisions in the morning. I have a map that will show how to get to his cottage.”

  Charles could tell that Melissina wanted to leave at once, and that she saw the sense of waiting. “Thank you.”

  Phichorian took his hand off of Charles’s shoulder. “If you don’t need us anymore, Charles and I can find our own way back to our room.”

  “Very well.” Melissina did not look at them.

  Phichorian steered Charles towards the door. On the way, Charles got a glimpse of Amertious. He was standing very stiff, clenching and unclenching his fist. Charles hurried out of the room.

  Safely in the hall, he murmured, “I guess they want to talk.”

  “Melissina and Amertious?” Phichorian grinned. “I hope Bobble gets out of there before they start.” He glanced at Charles. “Was there something else?”

  “Is this hermit dangerous?”

  “Not as far as I know.”

  “Then why was Dean Shellwood so nervous?”

  “I was wondering the same thing myself. Why do you ask?”

  “Just, well, I got the impression you’re going, so I thought...”

  “You’d rather go with people you’ve known for a couple of days than be left here with complete strangers?”

  “Unless, well, I don’t know how to fight.”

  “I don’t know of any reason why it wouldn’t be safe. If you want to come, I’d be glad of the company. Now, should we see if there’s anything left to eat?”

  * * *

  Whatever the argument had been, if there had been one, it seemed to have been forgotten by the time Charles and Phichorian met Melissina and Amertious in the courtyard the next morning. They seemed friendly and Amertious did not question their route or Melissina's choice of mount.

  It seemed that Bobble had spent the rest of the night in discussion with Dean Shellwood. He arrived with her, flitted into the back of the wagon, and promptly fell asleep on top of a stack of blankets.

  Dean Shellwood hugged Melissina then waited for her to mount up. “Good luck. You are always welcome here. In fact, I think it would be best for you to return here after you speak to him, no matter what he says. I have resources and I can help you prepare to use what he tells you.”

  “Then we will return and tell you what he’s said,” Melissina answered.

  “Promise me you will all return.”

  Melissina looked surprised, but said, “Certainly, my word on it.”

  Dean Shellwood looked at each of them in turn. Phichorian nodded at once, so Charles did as well. Amertious looked annoyed, but when Dean Shellwood refused to turn away, he muttered, “Whatever.”

  “And I’ll trust that Bobble will agree. Then I’ll wish you a safe journey and look forward to your return.”

  Melissina turned her horse to the gate and started the bustle of getting underway.

  Once they were on the road, Charles leaned to Phichorian and asked, “Did you get the feeling Dean Shellwood knows what this hermit is going to tell us?”

  “Suspects, I think, or she’d have told us herself. But I do think she suspects a lot more than she let on. At least while we were there. Who knows what she told Melissina. Although not everything I think.” Phichorian shrugged. “We can ask Bobble when he wakes up, but I doubt he knows much more.”

  * * *

  Bobble woke up in time for lunch, but his conversation with Dean Shellwood had mainly centered around the sweater. Phichorian spent the afternoon telling them old stories he’d learned at the university. Charles enjoyed it since it kept his mind off of his worries. In the front of his mind was the fact that he had never gone camping before.

  At dusk they set up camp near a stream. Amertious took the horses aside and got them ready for the night. Phichorian climbed into the back of the wagon, took out the tents and began to pitch them. Charles stood, feeling useless, until Phichorian climbed back into the wagon. He put two buckets on the seat. “Would you fill those?”

  “Sure thing.” Charles grabbed the buckets and took them to the stream. When they were full, he had to carry them back one at a time since there was no way he could lift them both at once. By the time he had done that, Phichorian had pitched the two remaining tents. “Put the buckets by the larger tent then we’ll go get some firewood.”

  Charles put the buckets by the larger tent, which was gray waterproof canvas. The smaller tent was made of brown leather with silk trim.

  “We’ll share the larger tent with Bobble,” Phichorian said as he showed Charles what was good firewood, “if that’s OK with you. Then Amertious can take the smaller and Melissina can have the wagon to herself.”

  Charles was relieved that he wouldn’t have to share with Amertious. When they had stacked the wood by the wagon, Phichorian went about starting a fire. Since no one seemed to need him, Charles wandered away from the camp, making sure he could still see the bright fabric of the tent covering the wagon’s crest through the trees. When he was far enough that he couldn't be seen from the camp, he drew the knife Amertious had given him and looked at it. It was simple, with a worn leather hilt and a blade that had been carefully polished.

  Charles gripped the hilt and held it out in front of himself. It didn’t feel quite right. Charles shifted his grip and tried swinging it again. Still awkward.

  “There you are,” grumbled Amertious. “You had the princess worried.”

  Charles lowered the knife. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I just...” Of all the people to stumble on him, it had to be Amertious, the one person he didn’t want seeing him playing at being a knight.

  Back at the camp, Melissina had climbed back into the wagon and was handing food down to Phichorian. Amertious left Charles by the wagon and took his weapons to his tent.

  Charles stayed by the wagon, trying to stack the wood neatly. He’d made a nice pile when Amertious called, “Boy!”

  Charles didn’t answer. He’d take any excuse to ignore Amertious.

  “Charles.”

  That surprised Charles enough to make him look up.

  “Come here.”

  It was an order, but it was a polite order. Charles chose to follow it.

  Amertious pulled out a small sword. “If you want to be part of the fight, you have to know how to fight. This looks about your size.” He held the sword out to Charles.

  Charles took it. The hilt was simple, wrapped in leather. The guard had a small pattern etched into it, nothing fancy, just a series of wavy lines. He ran his thumb along the etching. The blade was shiny and sharp. Charles resisted the urge to run a finger along that too; he was fond of all his fingers and didn’t want to lose one on the forest floor.

  “You’re holding that wrong.”

  Charles fumbled with the sword.

  Amertious took the sword from Charles and gripped it. “Like this. See where my fingers are? Try it.”

  Amertious held out the sword again and Charles took it, trying to copy Amer
tious’s hold.

  Amertious leaned over and moved Charles’s fingers a bit. “All right, now for the rest of you.” He pushed Charles’s shoulder. “Stand up straight, spread your legs like this. Good. Is your weight balanced?” He gave Charles a shove. “Not bad. We need more room. Follow me.” Amertious led Charles a little ways away from the camp, where they could move without hitting anything. “Stand like you were. I’m going to show you a simple parry, more of a block really, but if someone’s coming at you, it will buy you some time.”

  Amertious showed Charles the parry, then made him practice it over and over again, until he was satisfied Charles had the movement down.

  “Now do it slowly.”

  Charles obeyed and almost dropped the sword as Amertious swung his own sword at him. Amertious checked his swing at the height. “Look at my shoulder. Try to guess where I’m going to hit you and catch it. Try to use the blade to stop me, but the guard will do too. Now, how will you move?”

  Charles stared at Amertious, trying to visualize where Amertious’s arm would move, and moved to block.

  “Don’t block my arm, block the blade.”

  Charles moved a little.

  “All right.” Amertious finished his swing slowly, hitting Charles’s sword. “Again.”

  Amertious swung his blade again, at a different angle, but just as slowly, giving Charles time to plan his move.

  “Almost lost a leg there,” Amertious said as he whacked Charles in the shin with the flat of his blade. “Time to go back. We don’t want them to wait dinner on us.”

  As they started back to the camp, Charles held the sword out to Amertious.

  “Keep it for now. Who knows what we’ll encounter.”

  “Thanks.” Charles was torn between fear of what he’d have to defend himself against and the feeling that it was just too cool to be carrying around a real sword.

  Chapter 9

  They reached the hermit’s hut late the next morning. Charles knew something was wrong as soon as the small hut came into view, just by watching Melissina's reaction. There was no smoke from the chimney; he’d been looking for that after the last trip, but he wasn’t sure if there was supposed to be smoke. Melissina seemed to sense the trouble in the air. She threw the reins of her horse in the general direction of Amertious, jumped down, and ran to the door. Phichorian caught the reins. He didn’t give Amertious time to decide if he was annoyed or not, just nodded towards Melissina. “Go after her until we know what’s in there.”

  Amertious opened his mouth to argue, but he quickly changed his mind and tossed Phichorian his reins too. Phichorian brought the wagon to the hitching post and jumped down to tie everything up. Charles climbed down slowly. He didn’t think he’d be much help with the horses and he didn’t want to know what was in the small, dark hut.

  Phichorian came around the wagon and rested a hand on Charles’s shoulder. “Come on.” Charles realized Phichorian didn’t want to see inside the hut anymore than he did.

  It could have been worse. The house was empty, which was definitely not good. There had been a fight, that was clear from the overturned furniture and smashed remains of dinner.

  Amertious immediately began pacing the room. He knelt by the table and looked at the remains of the crockery. “These are the marks of rebel boots.” He stayed low to the ground and looked around. “He was sitting at dinner when they came.”

  Still kneeling, Amertious made his way along the floor. “He fought back here, but it didn’t help him.”

  Phichorian stayed by the wall. Charles stayed close to him and out of Amertious’s way.

  Amertious finally straightened. “There is nothing more to be learned in here. I’m going to try outside.” He did not wait for Melissina's approval but went straight out the door.

  Melissina picked up the nearest chair and put it right, then sat on it, staring at the wall. Phichorian waited silently for a few moments. When she didn't speak, he went to the center of the room and began straightening the table and picking up the broken crockery, putting the pieces into the most intact bowl.

  “Do you think he’s alive?” Melissina asked without turning from the wall.

  “Amertious seems to think so,” Phichorian answered. “And I don’t think there’s enough blood for him to have been killed here.”

  “Unless they took him away and killed him"

  “It’s possible.” Phichorian arranged the bowl in the center of the table. “But it is also possible they want information from him, or to hold him for ransom. They may want the very information we’re trying to get.”

  That seemed to perk Melissina up. She stood and went to the door. “Maybe Amertious is ready for us.”

  Outside, Amertious was crouched low to the ground, studying the path. He noticed them almost at once. “They went this way, towards the fortress of West Mountain.”

  Phichorian turned to Melissina. “Do we follow?”

  Melissina looked at Amertious. “Could we follow the trail now?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “And if we go back for help?”

  “The longer we wait the less chance we have.”

  Melissina nodded. “Then we’ll follow.”

  Amertious tied his horse to the back of the wagon and went ahead on foot, hunched over most of the time, scanning the ground. Every so often he would drop to his knees and study something, then spring back up and go on.

  Melissina rode her horse beside the wagon. They traveled slowly, stopping frequently so Amertious would be able to stay ahead of them and be able to see the trail without the marks of their horses and wagon confusing him.

  * * *

  Amertious led them through the countryside to a valley with a small fort at the center. As soon as Amertious spotted it, he ran back to them. “It’s a good thing we’re a small party. Otherwise we would have been spotted coming over the rise. There are at least six guard towers.”

  “Then how do we get in?” Melissina asked.

  Amertious paced around the wagon. “I’ll think of something.”

  While Amertious paced and Melissina, Charles, and Phichorian watched, Bobble solved the problem.

  “No one ever notices me. I could fly down and get a better look.”

  Amertious looked unconvinced, but Melissina spoke before he could. “That’s a good idea, but be careful.”

  Bobble flitted down the hill, leaving Amertious pacing and the rest of them waiting as best they could.

  It didn’t take Bobble long to get back. He flitted up the hill, ignored Amertious, and went straight to Melissina. “Your Highness, we were not spotted because there was no one to spot us.”

  “What? There’s no one in the towers?”

  “No one, Your Highness.”

  “Is the fort deserted?”

  “I do not believe so, Your Highness. I can see horses and signs that the captors came through recently.”

  “Then where are they?”

  “You're certain no one is there?” Amertious asked.

  Bobble nodded. “No one in the towers. I did not go further inside.”

  “Then I will go down and finish the job. If all is well, I will signal for you to follow on foot. Hide the wagon and tether the horses.”

  Phichorian drove the wagon part way up the side of the hill and parked it behind a clump of bushes just off the road. Melissina tied the horses nearby. By the time they had walked back to the clearing, Amertious could be seen waving at them.

  They made their way down the hill. Amertious waited until they were close enough for him to speak in a normal voice before he told them, “There are no guards on duty but clearly they are here.”

  “I wonder where they are,” Phichorian murmured.

  “And how many.” Charles felt a chill as he imagined hoards waiting for them inside.

  Amertious answered Charles’s question. “A fort this size can’t hold more than thirty men comfortably. It’s not meant to be a garrison, just a prison.”

&
nbsp; Thirty was better than he’d imagined, but still not very comforting.

  “So where will we find these thirty guards?” Melissina asked.

  Amertious had ignored Phichorian’s question, but he considered Melissina's version of it. “I will continue to scout ahead. They must be inside.”

  Bobble flitted over. “Perhaps it would be safer for me to scout. I am smaller and easier to miss.”

  Amertious didn’t look pleased, but Melissina nodded. “That’s logical.”

  Bobble flitted away before Amertious could speak. He was back in a few moments. “I found the way in.”

  * * *

  Bobble had found a small wooden door. It looked so flimsy, it wasn’t until Amertious, Melissina and Phichorian grabbed onto his sweater that Charles remembered the magic and then couldn’t understand how he forgot it. Squeezing Charles’s arm, Amertious turned the doorknob and led them into the courtyard.

  Once they were through, Bobble flitted ahead and into the fortress. The courtyard was narrow, too small for any kind of practice ground. Charles was proud of himself for noticing these kinds of distinctions. It was designed to impress on the prisoner that there was no hope. The walls towered above them, rough black stone only broken by the steps to the watch towers, all fully exposed so any guard standing on the walls could shoot down an escaping prisoner with a crossbow. The door Bobble had flitted through was just an opening, but Charles could see a portcullis raised above it. Amertious followed his gaze. “They’re confident in their door.”

  “Of course,” Phichorian answered. “Necorious always did underestimate the power sprite magic has, just because it doesn’t destroy things. He would never imagine they could come up with a way to break his spell, and without him knowing about it. I can’t think of another kind of magic that could, not without going back to the ancients. That’s why Bobble’s sweater is so valuable.”