by Alex Aguilar
“What’re you doing?” she hissed at him angrily.
“Shhh. One moment, darling.”
It had been the sound of Viktor’s voice offering the recompense of 5,000 yuhn in silver that made the thief stop in his tracks. It was enough to intrigue him into hearing what else the knight had to say.
Before she knew it, Syrena was being dragged into another empty alleyway.
She observed as Hudson began removing his disguise in a hurry.
“Have you gone completely mad?!” she snarled at him.
“Forget what I said before, my dear,” he said hastily. “I am no longer a merchant transporting a witch prisoner… I am Hudson Blackwood, cunning thief and mercenary.” Upon stating his own name, he raised his chin and posture in a somewhat humorous way. “It’s got a lovely ring to it, don’t you think?”
“What happened to the plan?” Syrena asked.
“Oh, forget the plan. The plan was rubbish. We would’ve been caught immediately,” he said, as he threw the knitted cap over his head and slipped on his black hat with amusing pride. “Here’s the new plan. We join Sir Fancy’s squadron and leave the city grounds without having to hide… How’s that for a bit of spontaneous thinking, eh?”
“But they want you dead!”
“Lots of people want me dead, darling. It’s the ones that don’t that you want to keep an eye out for.”
Syrena’s expression went from startled to perplexed and with a doubtful sigh, she said, “That’s the most stupid plan I’ve ever heard.”
“And that’s precisely why it is bound to work,” he said with a wink.
“What makes you think Sir Fancy will even want your help?”
“Why wouldn’t he?” he asked assertively, throwing his black coat on. “I’m Hudson Blackwood.”
He moved towards the crowds, but she grabbed his elbow abruptly and pulled him back into the alley. “Hudson,” she whispered, her left eye beginning to twitch from the anticipation. “Wait…”
“What is it, darling?”
“I, uh…” she hesitated, rubbing her eye to stop the nervous twitching. “I don’t like crowds,” she confessed. “They make me nervous… And… y-you don’t want to be near me when it gets bad…”
“When what gets bad?”
She sighed and looked down at her hands, shivering with torment and hot as a furnace. And suddenly the thief reached over fearlessly, wrapped his hand in hers, and looked at her with his gaze warm and determined.
“I’m not leaving you behind,” he said to her. “But if we’re getting out of here, you’ll have to trust me…”
She felt her heart skip a beat. Her hands kept shivering but her eye eased down on the twitching. And she could hardly speak, replying only with a worried nod.
“Come, love,” he said with a devious grin. “Let’s show these bastards what you’re made of.”
They waited for the opportune moment, moving through the swarm of civilians, astonishingly undetected. They found the perfect spot, in front of an elegant fountain, near a herd of attentive children. One of them caught sight of the wanted thief and made eye contact with him. The thief placed a finger over his own lips and winked, urging for the child’s trust. The witch felt as if her heart would pound out of her chest from the torment. But the thief, in contrast, remained at ease.
The time had come… A young man had stepped forward, dragging with him a long silence that lingered for several moments.
The thief turned to the witch.
“Now, my dear,” he whispered. “Time to put on a show…”
Syrena paused briefly, contemplating on what she was about to do. She had escaped the city’s dungeons, only to expose herself once again to the same hostile civilians that wished to kill her only two days prior. Part of her urged her to run as far away from there as she could. She had her freedom and the thought of risking it made her tremble. But her conscience was leaning towards the thief, for it was he that made it possible to escape her prison cell to begin with. As insane as he may have seemed, she couldn’t ignore his talent.
She cracked her neck, breathed deeply, and as she held an arm up in the air, shot out the largest wave of flame she had ever conjured. She did not restrain herself, hoping the shock of it all would grab the attention of the masses long enough for the thief to speak.
And grab their attention, it did…
“Miss me, mate?” Hudson said first, unable to resist himself, and it made Viktor Crowley as baffled as he hoped it would. Hudson stepped onto the fountain, elevating his view over the sea of heads.
“A beloved morning to you all!” he shouted boldly at the herd of citizens like a madman. “And what is this? The Golden Eagle of Vallenghard… Just the man I wanted to see.”
The expression in Viktor’s face gave Hudson a tremendous feeling of joy. There was no greater pleasure for the thief than to see his foes astounded and flustered upon his astute skills.
“Do not fret, Val Havyans, for we come here today in peace,” the thief raised both his arms in the air the same way Viktor Crowley had done just moments before, almost as if mocking the knight.
“What is the meaning of this?!” Jossiah Biggs shouted from afar. “Guards! Arrest that thief!”
“I assure you, mate, you don’t want to do that.”
“And why the bloody hells not?!”
“Because from where I stand, I am the only thing standing in between you bringing home a live princess or a dead one,” Hudson said, and it was followed by concerned whispers among the crowd. The thief hopped down from the fountain and began walking towards the palace gates, swaying with every step in his own unique manner, almost like a dance.
Syrena followed closely behind him as the peasants stepped away in horror, making way for them both. She was as watchful as she had ever been, her brows lowered and her eyes glistening almost menacingly. And as she walked with her arms at her sides, her palms remained ablaze, the flames dancing between her fingers.
Once the shock of it all had died down, Viktor Crowley felt a deep rage in his chest and sighed.
“Explain yourself now, Blackwood,” he said. “Before I change my mind and order your beheading.”
“Thank you, old mate,” Hudson replied, tipping his hat in a quick bow. “I am here today, along with my radiant partner, to offer our services to the kingdom of Vallenghard and venture with you to retrieve her royalness.”
“We do not negotiate with thieves!” Jossiah sneered.
“And that’s quite honorable of you, old man. But if I heard correctly, your plan is to invade enemy grounds and steal the princess back from the grasp of the invaders… Seems to me like that’s the work of a thief, is it not?”
“We will never accept the help of a crook!” Biggs spoke again as Viktor remained pensive.
“Sometimes, mate… It takes a crook to fight a crook,” Hudson grinned.
The thief and the witch had by then joined the two former knights in front of the palace gates, and were at the center of attention, surrounded by watchful eyes and worried faces. As the thief paced about, Syrena was standing with her back to him, her flaming hands aimed at the herd so as to guard him. She glanced back a couple of times, curious of Viktor’s reaction as Hudson worked his own magic on him.
“As I stand here before you on this fine day, my talents speak for themselves,” Hudson spoke aloud, this time at the herd of peasants. “I’ve heard all about the Val Havyn dungeons… Inescapable, they called them. Figured I just had to see for myself and quite frankly I’ve seen better,” he grinned at Jossiah Biggs, causing the crowds to mumble and some to even laugh and ridicule the royal guard.
“Now imagine what my skills can do for you, old mate,” this time the thief was speaking directly at Viktor. “You need me… more than you care to admit. You cannot possibly break in and out of whatever foreign dungeons you speak of undetected and you bloody well know it… I, on the other hand, was born for it.”
The silence spoke for itself. The
thief’s plan was indeed working.
“Furthermore,” Hudson continued. “You cannot possibly guarantee the safety of these brave men standing before you.” He motioned to Cedric and Thaddeus Rexx. The Davenport brothers hid behind Thaddeus’s large frame, perfectly aware that the same witch they had captured for ransom just days prior could easily kill them with a thrust of her arm.
“There are dangers in that forest far greater than your fancy sword can handle,” the thief went on. “I mean, honestly, have you considered the fact that these are the Woodlands we’re speaking of? You’re bound to face one or two creatures of dark magic and you won’t defeat them with a piece of metal, old mate. No… It would take a much greater force to remain alive and protected. A much greater ally… Say, perhaps… A witch?” The reactions from the audience were a mix of consideration and protest, but all were caught in the thief’s grasp and he refused to let them go.
Viktor Crowley sighed, well aware of the possible mistake he was about to make.
The thief stepped in front of him once more, keeping a foot’s distance between them.
“Come on, old mate,” he said in a lower voice as if in secret, his words meant only for the golden knight. “For old times’ sake, yes?”
Syrena was close enough to hear, and she couldn’t help but wonder what old times Hudson was referring to. When he got no reaction from Sir Viktor, Hudson stepped away once more, his loud voice returning to its rough vibrant nature.
“Sir Viktor Crowley, you are a brave and honorable man. There’s no doubt in my heart about that, old mate. And that is precisely why I am offering my assistance… You give me and my radiant companion a chance, and I assure you… I will do everything in my power to bring the princess home. Alive.”
It was at that moment that Viktor Crowley stepped forward, his studded boots echoing within the silence of the square. Hudson remained in place, confident and unperturbed. And then Viktor looked into the eyes of the thief… Memories of a past life he no longer held flashed before him, as the thief’s grin slowly lost its coil and turned into a stern expression.
“You chose this,” Viktor said.
Hudson scowled at him, baffled. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I’m just reminding you of the circumstances that you chose, Blackwood… We could have spoken privately like decent men would have, but you chose to do this publicly in the middle of your king’s city.”
“What can I say?” Hudson shrugged. “I am rather impulsive.”
“That, you are,” Viktor said. “So let’s cut the bloody inspirational speech and jump right to our business here.”
“Business is all I care about, old mate.”
“Shut your damn mouth for a moment and listen.”
There was a threatening look in Viktor’s eyes, the kind that could frighten a man. It was the look of a soldier that had seen his fair share of horrors in his life and was willing to do everything in his power to ensure that his plan followed through as precise as possible. When he spoke, it was as if every single voice in the royal city had gone mute.
“You cross me…” Viktor said loudly, “You so much as think about crossing me… And I will see to it personally that you never cross another man again. My sword will cast upon you and that will be the end of Hudson Blackwood… Do I make myself perfectly clear?
“That you do, old mate,” Hudson smiled and gave the knight a friendly tap on the shoulder, as if the moment had passed. But the golden knight ignored the tap and continued.
“You help me steal the princess back… And as the king’s right hand, I will do everything in my power to convince the king to remove the ransom from your head.”
The mockery in the thief’s demeanor seized and his smile faded. He stared into the bright blue eyes of the golden knight, with a look that assured him no more tangible jesting. The plan had been to travel with the squadron no farther than the forest, after which he and Syrena would sneak away into the night while the rest slept…
The circumstances, however, had changed.
And Hudson Blackwood stood before an opportunity he felt reluctant to refuse.
An opportunity to stop running…
After careful consideration, and turning to Syrena for a hint of approval, the thief shot the same stern expression back at the golden knight.
“I want 10,000 yuhn,” he said.
“You will get the agreed 5,000 and not a single yuhn more,” Viktor replied.
“8,000 would be the most human, y’know?” Hudson felt the tension in his shoulders breaking, his witty contemptuous approach coming back to him. “I mean after all, I did just break out of a dungeon only to travel hundreds of miles to break into a dungeon. You can see the irony.”
“This is not a negotiation,” Viktor said. “5,000 or it’s back to the dungeons and this time under more chains than you can fidget your way out of.”
“Fine,” Hudson said after a brief pause. “5,000 yuhn… and my own horse.”
“Fair enough.”
* * *
John Huxley packed what he thought would be of use to him into his late father’s old leather rucksack. His mother stood by an open window, gazing into the distance at the approaching company of horses. She noticed there were no banners, which seemed most proper, considering they were bound to encounter a few unfriendly faces along the way. A subtle glow brightened her face as a mass of clouds blurred the setting sun that afternoon.
“The company is here,” she said.
John walked over to the window and saw. 10 minutes, he figured it would take them, considering the path they were on was as familiar to him as the dry calluses on his hands.
“I’m sorry,” John said, hardly bearing to see the trails in his mother’s cheeks. “I have to do this, mum… You know I do.”
Adelina turned to face her son. Her eyes were swelled up as she fought to keep the tears in. “I know.”
“I can’t sit here while they fight for our kingdom,” he said. “Not when I’m the only one that has seen what the enemy looks like. It’s not the way father would’ve wanted it. And I know it’s not the way you want it either.”
Adelina raised her right hand and grazed her son’s cheek. John closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of his mother’s hand, taking the moment to value it, well aware of the possibility that this may be the last time he would feel such warmth.
“I know,” she said again as she kissed her son in the forehead. “Now go and speak with your sister, will you?”
Young Robyn sat crossed-legged above the stables, leaning on a pile of hay. As a child, she had asked for a tree house but her mother wouldn’t allow it. She had settled for a room above the stables, which she had to reach by ladder. John climbed it towards her, and he saw her taking rocks from a nearby pile and throwing them into a tin bucket about 10 feet across from her.
“Given up on arrows, I see?” he tried to jest, but her firm expression remained unchanged.
“Mister Beckwit says it will help with my aim,” she replied softly, as if she didn’t care for the conversation. She managed to throw a rock inside the bucket and though she would typically smile at the very least, this time she looked unsatisfied.
“Looks like you’re getting better,” he smiled for her. “Guess I’ll need to start training more or you’ll catch up.”
“Can you please just go?” she couldn’t bear to look at him.
There was nothing but the sound of the wind between them, blowing through an open windowless square on the wooden walls of Robyn’s barn room. Even the sounds of the animals inside the barn were muffled by the tension between the girl and her brother.
“Robyn, I’m sorry,” he said.
“Please…” her voice began to break, and her jaw trembled as she fought hard to not appear vulnerable in front of him. “Just go.”
John said nothing. He felt a hint of hesitation for a moment, well aware that he hadn’t been away from home for years, at least not without a member of his family at his side
. And the thought of this possibly being the last conversation with his sister left with with an ache in his gut.
A loud squawking broke the tension all of a sudden. The sound of flapping wings announced the arrival of the black crow as it flew in and landed on the wooden rim of the hollow window. Robyn looked at it, at its solitary eye staring back at her, feeling as though it was somehow judging her.
“John? Are you there? You’ve got visitors,” they heard Mister Beckwit’s voice down below.
John said no more and began climbing back down.
Robyn had always been the kind of person to seek isolation whenever something would upset her. She would sit and ponder and throw rocks at whatever target was nearest to her. She even considered for a moment grabbing a stone from the pile and throwing it at the crow so as to scare it away. But she found herself mildly intrigued as for the first time it didn’t fly away once it was left alone with her.
When John met Mister Beckwit, Adelina had also joined them by the barn.
The company arrived, and Viktor Crowley was the first to leap off his white horse and greet them.
Adelina became instantly flustered and tense at the sight of a man she knew only by name. At the same time, however, some of the pressure left her chest, reckoning that her son’s safety would be much more assured in the company of the Golden Eagle himself.
“Good afternoon. You must be Missus Huxley,” Viktor said.
Something in the former knight had changed noticeably. Beginning with his attire, his armor was as regal and polished as it always was except the crest of the king was missing from his chest. The symbol of the golden eagle was still there, its wings spread outward all the way to his shoulder plates. The blue cape that he always wore was also gone, replaced by a bright red one, empty of any sigil. Viktor was no longer a knight, just a man in shiny armor, but his approach and demeanor was just as chivalrous as people were accustomed to.
“Please, call me Adelina.”
“Viktor Crowley of Val Havyn,” Viktor greeted her with an unexpected kiss on the hand.
Introductions were made, starting with Jossiah Biggs and three more of the king’s soldiers who had all volunteered merely for the silver. Cedric and Thaddeus Rexx greeted them informally, as they had already been acquainted with the Huxleys, and seeing Cedric among the squadron both surprised and worried John a bit. The Davenport brothers hardly acknowledged the greetings, talking amongst themselves from a distance instead.