by Evren, S. K.
Drothspar and Ythel talked until the Duke insisted on speaking with Chance. He bowed to the young woman, prompting more quizzical stares from his men. He smiled softly and told Chance that he had heard wonderful things about her, and that he was sorry their first meeting hadn’t been more cordial. Before she could say a word, the Duke informed her that he would be honored if she would consider his house, and his family, her own. He told her that she was as much his daughter as Drothspar was his son, and he was proud to call them both “family.”
The day passed in conversations and preparations. Ythel and many of the Crown forces were heading east as a relief mission to their wounded neighbors. The remaining forces were to scour Marynd to be sure that nothing was missed. Drothspar and Chance were given special medallions of safe conduct by the King himself, in order to ensure that no mistakes were made on the account of the one known and remaining skeleton.
Drothspar and Chance saddled their horses and left the next day for Arlethord. Ythel told them that the house was awaiting their arrival and that he would join them as soon as possible. There was much that the Duke wanted to discuss, but his duties to the Crown came first.
Days later, as they rode westward with the sun gleaming through the bare treetops, Chance turned in her saddle.
“Drothspar?”
“Yes,” came the whispering reply.
“How many dead did that Crown quartermaster say they’d found around Æostemark?”
“Around a thousand, I think.”
“Doesn’t that seem…? I don’t know, low?”
“Low?” he asked.
“Low, I mean, too few. Several thousand people died in that first invasion of Æostemark. Those mass graves we saw the first time, there had to be more than a thousand people buried in them.”
Drothspar looked at her. “Many more.” They both looked back toward Æostemark. “We’re going to have to warn someone, but I don’t think we can catch Ythel—”
As they looked ahead, a figure moved in the distance. The figure, a woman in a heavy cloak, made no attempt at hiding herself, but walked directly toward them.
“Hello,” she called out to them, in a voice as hollow and eerie as Drothspar’s.
“Hello,” Drothspar called back, shocked to hear a voice like his own.
“There’s someone ahead of you, not a very nice someone,” the cloaked figure told them. “Specifically, he plans to kill you and take the girl.” The hollow voice chuckled. “Clearly, he doesn’t know you.”
“You seem to,” Drothspar said.
“Some things I know, some things I don’t.” She shrugged. “I came here to warn you. My warning complete, I’ll be on my way—for now. We’ll meet again, I’m sure.” The figure pushed back her hood and a grinning skull stared back at Drothspar. Raising her arm in an open-handed salute, the skeleton turned to walk away, passing behind a tree. When Drothspar rounded the tree to ask about the skeleton, he found the figure had already vanished.
“Well,” he said, “at least we know what’s coming.”
“I suppose so,” Chance said. “I really need to get this straightened out, don’t I?”
“Let me ride in the lead?” Drothspar suggested. “We can go spring this fellow’s trap.”
Drothspar rode ahead of Chance and spotted movement in a dense thicket to his left. He heard a sharp twang and felt a tug at his cloak. He lurched forward in his saddle and let his head fall to one side.
The attacker stepped out into the open, working furiously to re-cock his crossbow.
“Don’t try to run, Miss,” he told Chance as he struggled with his weapon. “You wouldn’t get far enough to outrun this.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said lightly. “But there is something I should tell you.”
“And what’s that?” he asked, finally getting the bowstring cocked and reaching for a new bolt.
“You really shouldn’t try to run, because there is no way you would be able to outrun him.”
The attacker scoffed as he fumbled with his bolt. “Nice try, Miss, but your friend is dead.”
“Why, so he is,” she replied blithely, “Your point?”
The man turned his head just in time to watch Drothspar’s balled up fist fall on the top of his head. The bolt that had just been fitted into his crossbow sprang loose and shot the man in the foot. He was, however, unconscious, and didn’t make a sound.
“Yes,” Drothspar said, leading the man’s horse from around the thicket, “we really should do something about this.” He picked up the attacker’s inert body and draped it over the horse. He bound the man’s hands to his feet under the horse’s belly and remounted.
“We?” Chance asked, smiling
“You weren’t going to go without me, were you?”
“I certainly hope not,” she replied. She sat thoughtfully as Drothspar led the additional horse beside her.
“Are you okay?” he asked her, concerned.
“I’m fine,” she answered almost absently. “Drothspar?”
“Yes?”
“This isn’t over, is it?”
“No, probably not. Is that okay?”
“Do you know how to work that crossbow?” she asked.
“This? Yes, I suppose I do.”
“Show me. We’ll make it okay.”