by Brad Clark
“I think you underestimate yourself, Conner. You are brave and courageous. Two qualities that would make a champion.”
“Two qualities that would lead to my quick death! Without skill with a blade, all the bravery and courage in the world would do me no good!” He was silent for some time, pondering their predicament. As long as they could survive the night and not freeze to death, they would be able to slip through the forest and avoid their pursuers. The problem would be staying warm enough. With no fire to dry their clothes or keep their bodies warm, there was a good chance they would simply fall asleep and not awaken. He had seen it before, but that had been in the middle of winter. While on a hunting trip with a friend and his uncle, the uncle fell through ice on the river. They had struggled with a fire then, and could not get one going. Any wood they found was too wet and the friend’s uncle had the only flint amongst them. It had been lost when he struggled in the river trying to get out. They had gone to sleep that night and only Conner and his friend woke up in the morning.
Conner looked around the cave. It was really no more than a hole in the side of a hill. It was just tall enough for Conner to stand with a slight crouch, but it didn’t go very deep into the hill. There were remnants of fires from when others who had used the cave. It was out of the wind and maybe, just maybe, it would hold the heat of their bodies in.
He moved close to the princess and put an arm around her, wrapping his cloak around the both of them. The cloak was wet and smelled dirty and musty. She protested with a groan, but her teeth were chattering too much to speak.
“The warmth of our two bodies together will be warmer,” he said.
She did not make another sound. She simply rested her head on his chest and his arms pulled her in tightly to him. In only a moment, her teeth stopped chattering and she let out a long sigh. The scent of her perfumes filled his senses. It was warming and wonderful, something that he had never experienced before. He had smelled girls before, but they mostly smelled like dirt and sweat. This was different. She was different. Her warm body was soft against his. She moved her left arm behind his back and held him tightly. His arm, draped over her shoulder, squeezed.
“How old are you Elissa?”
It took her a moment before she answered with a sleepy voice, “Last spring I had my Growing Celebration.”
“You’re what?” He asked with a suddenly loud voice. The response had surprised him and his voice carried deep into the cave.
She giggled. “It is a tradition in my family.”
“I have never heard of it.”
“Well of course not, because you are…”
“Just a peasant?” He finished for her.
She pulled away from him and looked into his eyes. “Well, yes. But I was going to say that you were not a part of my family, so how would you know?”
“Okay. Then what is this Growing Celebration.”
“When a young lady reaches her fourteenth birthday, the family puts on a fancy feast and celebration. It is a week of eating and dancing. We play all sorts of lawn games, too.”
“Lawn games?”
She smacked him on the chest. “Games, you know, stick ball, bowling. A westerner showed us a game he called sock it. You play with a big ball of twine, but you can’t use your hands, only your feet.”
“Games,” Conner said quietly. “Sounds fun.”
“You do not play?”
“Games?” Conner replied sourly. “No. That is for the little boys and girls to keep them out of the way. I am a hunter. I do not have time for games.”
Her joyful mood quickly dissipated and she sat back down. “I am sorry. I did not mean to make you mad.”
“You did not,” he said softly. “I guess…maybe I wished I had time for fun.”
They were silent for a while. Conner started to feel sorry for himself. He envied the life that the princess had. Not only in doing the things that were fun, but being able to do anything she wanted, whenever she wanted. She lived a fanciful life of great grandeur, and he could see in her eyes and her voice how wonderful her life was. He wished, if only for a moment, he felt the same way about his life. There was little honor in wandering the woods for weeks on end, hunting and scavenging for food.
“I miss my mother,” Princess Elissa suddenly said.
“You will see her again, I promise.” It was only too late that he realized his mistake.
The tears flowed from her cheeks and she buried her head in her hands.
“I am sorry,” Conner said softly. “I forgot…”
She looked up at him and smiled, her large green eyes filled with tears. “It is okay,” she said. “I do not remember her. But I miss her, isn’t that crazy?”
“No,” said Conner. “Not at all.” He said no more, for he had never known his own mother, either. He didn’t even know anyone from her family. His aunt, his dead father’s older sister, never talked about her. He wanted to tell her, to let her know that she was not alone in not having a mother, but he couldn’t. Something inside of him was holding back. He kept his mouth closed and listened.
“My father talks about her all the time. She was very beautiful, from what everyone says. And gracious. And loving.” Her lips trembled. “She is everything I hope to be.”
Conner pulled her close again. Her head fell back onto his chest. “I promise you I will get you back to your father and you will grow up to be just like your mother. Beautiful, loving, caring, and a great princess for some handsome and dashing prince.”
She snuggled to him and yawned. “Maybe I’ll be a great queen. I have no brothers, you know.”
He could not image this young, precious, delicate flower being the leader of Karmon. Small as it was, it still took a powerful and wise king to rule it. He did not want to squash her dream, so he simply let her words go. He held her close. Feeling her body close to his made him feel warm and comfortable. It was a feeling that he hoped he would have again, but knew that his thoughts were far from reality. He didn’t really know what love was, but he could image it was something like he was feeling for Elissa. She was likable, and friendly, and very pretty. Maybe, just maybe…
Her breathing settled down and became regular and he knew that she fell asleep. He kept his eyes open, watching the cave entrance, ensuring that they were safe. Maybe all that he could be for her was to be her champion, to watch over her, to protect her. She couldn’t love him. He was a commoner, a peasant, the lowest rung on the ladder of life. But he could love her and he could show that love in the only way he knew how.
Chapter Three
Brace was strapping on his leather armor when the king came into the armory. The squire that was attending him stiffened and quickly fell to a knee. Brace remained standing, having long since proved his loyalty to the king.
“Rise and continue your work, young squire,” the king said with a smile. The squire, unaccustomed to doing his work in the presence of the king did continue, but with nervous and sweaty fingers.
“Brace, my long and dear friend,” the king said to his Knight Captain.
“Yes, your majesty,” Brace said.
The king fell onto a stool and let out a long sigh. “I need you now more than ever. The Thellians have never been so bold as to attack me personally like this. They have ravaged the villages along the mountains, but never have they dared come this close. I weary of them.”
“The surviving guard died of wounds soon after he made it back to the castle. Can we trust his memory of what happened?” Brace asked.
“He is absolutely certain of what he saw. He was clear in his words. He recalled their dress, their accent, and their words.”
“He heard them speak Thellian?”
The king nodded. “It is fortunate that some of Perkin’s men speak the language of our enemy.”
“Fortunate,” Brace repeated. Then he added, “Maybe too much so.”
“You question Perkin’s loyalty? I know that you and he do not get along and that is personal. But yo
u have always been able to work together professionally.
“The princess never announces her rides through the forest. Her ambushers would either have to wait for days or they would have to be told when and where she would be.”
“You suspect treachery?”
“Is there any doubt?”
The king looked down at the floor for a long time, pondering the meaning of those last words. Brace sat quietly as the squire finished pulling on his boots. With a nod, the squire was dismissed and then they were alone.
“What of your loyalties?” The king asked. His eyes looked up from the dirt floor and locked onto his Knight Captain.
Brace did not flinch, nor did he look away. He looked deep into the green eyes of his liege. He knew the king would know whether the words that came out of his mouth were true or not. It was just how the king was, and it was how the king had survived for twenty years as the ruler of Karmon.
“My loyalties are to the crown and kingdom, my lord.” He had to force himself to keep the king’s gaze. “Perkin’s sword is to protect you and the princess. My sword is to protect the realm.”
The king smiled. “It is the answer that I would expect from you. And because of you, this kingdom will last longer than me and even the memory of me.” The smile faded to look of anger, the anger of a father whose daughter was taken from him. “I would have my daughter back.”
Brace approached his king and placed a hand on his shoulder and said softly, “I will return your daughter to you. Unharmed. It is my vow. I shall not return until I have her in the saddle behind me.”
“Be gone, then,” the king said. With one last gaze and nod of the head, the king left the stables.
Brace could barely stand. The guilt that swept through him was overwhelming. The princess was never to have been harmed and even the Royal Guards were simply supposed to have been tied up. But one thing had led to another and there were five dead guardsmen and one missing princess. He tried to think of the moment when things had gotten out of hand and the plan had lost its way. He kept marching back in his mind until the beginning. The only moment that he could think about was that first moment when he decided to carry out the plan.
It was too late to change the past, but hopefully he could change the future. He strode out of the stables in long strides not wanting to take the long ride north. But he had to. He had to set things right.
***
The sun was still below the horizon when they came out of the cave. Elissa was refreshed and talkative, but the night had worn harshly on Conner. Each time he had closed his eyes, the only thing that he saw was her death. Whether it was her frozen body, or an arrow pierced body, or the worst, which was with her throat slit, the thoughts of her death kept him awake. All night she had slept, the gentle rise and fall of her chest upon his giving him thoughts of her being more than the girl she seemed. She was lithe, but not skinny. Unlike the girls he knew from his village, her bones could not be felt or seen. But she wasn’t plump like many of the girls from the city, born and bred into wealth and comfort. She seemed just…perfect. He was a young man, just out of boyhood and certain thoughts were hard to suppress. But she was the princess and he was there to protect her, not woo her. But there was still something electric about her touch.
He led her out of the cave by her hand. She held it firmly long after they had started walking south, heading towards the small village just a few hours walk away. It wasn’t long before the forest began to wake up around them. As the sun peeked above the far horizon, the birds began their morning routine. The wind picked up slightly, sending leaves and branches in a gentle dance. With the sun came warmth. Their clothes, still damp from the river, were a hefty weight upon their shoulders. Soon the sun would rise high and dry them out.
Her sneeze and the scattering of birds from nearby trees sent a shock through his system. His heart stopped for a moment, thinking that for sure they were found out. He pulled her down to her knees, and his eyes scanned the trees and underbrush.
“They could still be out there,” he said, maybe a bit too harshly.
Tears welled up in her eyes. “I am sorry,” she whispered.
Conner let his anger fall away. He could no more be angry at the cold night than he could be angry at the beautiful face that was inches from his. Her green eyes shone brightly in the morning sun. Her face, dirtied and stained from tears that he had not seen, was still as soft as tender as the day she was born. Her hair, once matted and tangled, had dried out and now flowed like beautiful locks just washed and curled. His heart pounded hard and he could not figure out why.
He shook his head and smiled. “It is okay. We just need to be quiet. Just in case. I do not think they are near, but we cannot be certain.”
As the Meadow River made its way south from the White Mountains to the Tyre River, it cut a path through woods and forests that went by many names. The locals called it the Black Woods or the Black Forest, but the map hanging in the great hall of the castle labeled it the Blackenwood Forest. The trees were thicker farther to the east and south where people were scarce and animals roamed free without fear of hunters. In Blackenwood, the trees grew thick and tall, blanketing nearly a quarter of the Karmon Kingdom with lush greens. They were at the edge where the grasses of the plains encroached upon the forest. The ground was no longer flat and smooth, but hilly. The river cut through forest, plains, and hills. Small villages had sprouted along its banks and even a larger one where the Meadow River dumped into the larger Tyre River. Boats traveled up and down the river, transporting goods from one village to another. The great city of South Karmon was located where the Tyre River fed into the Gulf of Taran. The king’s castle was located on the bluffs that overlooked both the city and the gulf, with the city stretched out below. Conner had visited the city once or twice, but he had never ventured near the castle, or near the waters of the gulf
They trudged through underbrush, across fields, up and down hills, and across little streams that were in their way. The sun did rise and warm them up, but the chill never seemed to leave, and their clothes never seemed to get complete dry. Their feet were just as cold and tired as the rest of their body. They stopped often to rest, as Elissa’s strength was keeping them from walking as fast as Conner wanted. He pushed her, harder than he wanted, but not as hard as he could have. For a while they talked while they walked, sharing stories of their lives. She talked about her friends, mostly daughters of lords and other land owners. He talked about his friends, farmers and hunters. They had little in common, but genuinely seemed to enjoy one another’s stories. As the day wore on, Elissa began to talk less and less. Her eyes were stuck forward, her mind forcing herself to put one foot in front of the other. Conner stopped pushing, letting her set the pace. He feared that they were moving so slow that they would not reach the village before nightfall. They ate berries, nibbled on roots, but their stomachs were angrily telling them that they needed more food. Conner feared that unless they reached the village before nightfall, they would not make it another night. Well, she would not make it another night, he corrected himself. He was strong and was used to the punishment that they were giving their bodies. But she was not. She was born into wealth and comfort, and simply not used to walking through the forest with little food and no strength.
Finally she simply let her body fall.
Conner heard the thump of her body falling, then saw her head strike the ground. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she would not respond to his calls. Her chest was still going up and down, so he knew that she was breathing. But he did not know how badly she might have hurt herself. With a heave and a grunt, he put her over his shoulders and continued walking. But now, his pace picked up. He reached deep into his strength reserves and pushed his body to make long, fast strides. His breathing became quick and shallow, but he forced himself to take slower, deep breaths, as he did when hunting. Slow the body, slow the mind, to make you faster and quicker for the kill, he had learned.
With no
idea how long he walked with her over his shoulders, with no idea how much strength he had left, the sight of the village made him nearly burst into tears. His shoulders were screaming with pain, he legs had long since gone numb. His mind could barely comprehend that he had reached his goal. A handful of the villagers were out and about, doing the things that they do every day when they saw him approach. Exhausted and unable to take another step, he dropped to his knees and she tumbled onto the ground in front of him.
***
Brace kneeled down to next to the man who had an arrow stuck in his chest. He looked over him as if he were inspecting him for the first time.
“He dragged himself from the river,” the ranger said.
Marik Brownbow was Brace’s most trusted ranger. He was knighted as all of them were, raised from a young child to serve the king as a soldier of the forests. He had polished plate armor back in the armory, but he had only worn it once, when he accepted the honor of knighthood and kneeled in front of his liege lord. Now, he simply wore a light leather armor vest that would offer only a small amount of protection in a sword fight. It was more important for him to travel lightly and silently, moving through the forests undetected. With little regard for the dead man, Marik yanked the arrow from the man’s chest and looked it over carefully.
“This is an odd arrow,” Marik said softly, more to himself than his captain.
“How so?” Brace asked after a moment. Marik continued to study the arrow from tip to fletching.
“It is a hunter’s arrow. Straight and true enough for a hundred yard shot to take down an animal, but hardly the kind used by a soldier from across a battle field. And the tip is stone, and not steel. It’ll kill an animal just as easy, but it won’t do well against even studded leather.”
Brace took the arrow from his ranger and looked it over himself. “But well enough against skin and bone.”
Marik gave a quick nod of the head. “It would appear that our princess came across a hunter in the woods.”