by Matt Heppe
They were gone. The horses were gone and Calen wasn’t there. Hadde nearly tripped over the body of a dead Saladoran. He’d been shot through the eye and lay dead on his back. Another lay nearby, his lopsided face covered in blood. But the horses were gone.
“Calen,” she croaked out a hoarse yell. Not even a yell. The ground was churned by horses’ hooves. A bush was stripped of leaves where reins had been yanked free.
Calen had fled with the horses. He had killed two men and run. “Calen,” she tried again, but it was just a whisper.
Nearby, Idorians shouted to each other. They were closing on her. She willed herself forward. She wanted so much to give up. Maybe they would let her see Enna one more time before she died.
Hadde waded through a tall patch of fern and everbloom. Where was her bow? When had she dropped it?
She stumbled a few steps forward and fell to her knees. She should get up and keep walking.
A horse whinnied nearby. Hadde looked up, expecting an Idorian soldier to run her down. The horse was partially obscured by a tree. It stood there, not moving, its rider not visible. Was he waiting, his crossbow cocked and ready?
Hadde lurched to her feet, peering for any sight of the rider. But he wasn’t there. The horse must have belonged to one of the dead men. She resisted the urge to run to the horse. Her pursuers would be on her soon, but it would do her no good to scare off her only escape.
Whispering soft words, she took the horse’s reins. It shook its head once, but let her move to its side. Hadde put her foot in the stirrup and tried to mount, but fell back in agony.
More shouts. Only strides away. Gritting her teeth against the pain she pulled herself up, but only managed to throw her body across the saddle. The horse turned under her, uncomfortable with the way Hadde’s weight lay across the saddle. She barely clung on with her good arm. She cried out as, with one last effort of will, she threw her right leg over the saddle.
Idorian soldiers shouted behind her as she put her heels to the horse’s flanks and galloped off. It was a bigger, heavier horse than Quickstep and every hoof-fall sent pain pounding through Hadde’s wounds.
The pain in her ribs and shoulder was so great she couldn’t bear to turn and see how close her pursuers were. She didn’t even know if they were mounted. She thought she heard hoof beats behind her and tensed with the expectation of a bolt striking her in the back.
Weaving past two trees, she managed to get a look behind her. Two horsemen, just twenty strides behind her. One held a crossbow, the other a drawn sword.
Given enough time, she knew she could outride them. She weighed half what they did in full armor. But she didn’t have time. She could barely cling to the saddle. How many heartbeats did she have left in her before she fell? The fall itself would kill her.
A flash of silver flew past her face. At first she thought the crossbowman had shot a bolt. But then she saw it again. The spirit bird flew off to Hadde’s left.
Hadde followed. The bird guided her on an erratic course through the trees and across a small stream.
A quick glance told Hadde that she had gained ground on the Idorians, but soon it wouldn’t matter. The world spun around her as her vision darkened. Branches slapped at her and nearly threw her from the horse.
And then the horse stopped.
Hadde raised herself from where she leaned against the horse’s neck. She turned the horse to face her pursuers. There was no more flight left in her. She couldn’t even draw her sword.
But the pursuit never came. She heard shouts, and galloping hooves, but the sound quickly faded. They had missed her when she had burst through the brush. It hardly seemed possible.
There was nothing particularly secretive about her hiding place. Everbloom surrounded a small pond in a tiny clearing. Dense trees surrounded the clearing, but were hardly impenetrable.
A wave of dizziness overwhelmed her and she clutched at the saddle pommel. She had to get off the horse before she fell. Slowly, she lifted her leg over the saddle, but she didn’t have the strength to let herself down easily. Her hand slipped from the pommel and she toppled to the ground.
Everbloom everywhere. Little white flowers surrounded her; their beautiful scent caressed her with their gentle fragrance. For a moment she felt at peace and the pain left her body. Or was that death coming to her? The final release as she joined the Great Spirit.
A bird called. The spirit bird. Hadde tuned to face the sound. The bird sat on a flat stone at the center of the pond. It fluttered its wings and then flew off. Sitting on the stone where the bird had been, something gold glittered in the moonlight.
Not possible. Hadde pushed herself up and stared at the stone. How could it be?
She crawled to the edge of the pool and slid into the cool water. The edge fell away quickly, and Hadde was immediately submerged to her neck. The cool water eased her pain, and the buoyancy of the water gave her strength.
Standing, the water reached her ribs. Slowly, she waded to the stone. It was two strides across and as flat as a table. And on the table sat a golden chain. Trembling, Hadde reached for the chain and pulled it close. From the chain dangled a golden pendant. And upon it was inscribed Helna’s Orb.
Save him, a voice said. I die without him.
Darkness closed in on Hadde. With the last of her strength she dragged herself atop the stone. “I cannot help you,” she muttered. “I am dying.”
I die for you, the voice said, and we are one. You die for me and our spirit will be free.
Chapter Eighteen
Maret woke to voices raised in argument. She and the children still sheltered at the base of the oak, all three having finally succumbed to exhaustion. There had been noise all night as the soldiers saw to the wounded and dead, sought out their horses, and salvaged the wreckage of their camp.
“A dozen men killed and a score wounded,” Saunder said. He, Baron Grax, and Grax’s squire stood a dozen strides from Maret. “Five horses killed and another four we’ll have to put down. At least ten horses missing.”
“I know the provisions of our contract,” Grax said. “I’ll pay the penalties. This is costing me a fortune.”
“This isn’t about money,” Saunder said. “This adventure of yours is costing me good men. They can’t be replaced.”
“Men can always be replaced.”
A few nearby soldiers stopped what they were doing to listen in, some more obviously than others. Enna and Orlos stirred from their sleep, with little Enna making signs she was about to start her morning cry.
“Can they?” Saunder asked. “Find me soldiers right now, Baron Grax. Where are they? Another fight like this and none of us will make it out of this forest.”
“There won’t be another fight like this. The Landomeri woman is dead and the man has fled without an arrow to his name.”
Hadde dead? Maret thought. She’d heard the Saladoran claims that Hadde had been shot. But the men who pursued her into the forest had come back empty handed.
“Where’s her body?” Saunder asked, echoing Maret’s thoughts. “And who’s to say the other one won’t return with more arrows… or with more Landomeri. Dromost take them! It wasn’t only the Landomeri who killed my men. It was the forest itself.”
“It wasn’t the forest. Our trader friend should have told us the Landomeri train animals for war.”
“Forsvar save us! Two warriors led thirty beasts in an attack? You don’t believe that.”
“It doesn’t matter. We killed every animal that attacked and killed or drove off those Landomeri. The woman had a bolt through her. She is rotting in the forest. It will take time for more Landomeri and their animals to attack and in just two days we can be clear of this forest.”
“Wishing it to be that way won’t make it happen. We have to consider that another attack of this size could occur.”
Enna chose that moment to let out a tremendous wail. Maret tried to comfort her, but had her hands full with Orlos.
“Gods
! Shut that kid up,” Grax said.
“She’s upset,” Maret said. “And has every right to be.”
“I don’t care, give her your tit and quiet her down.”
“You stole her.” Maret didn’t try to hide her anger. “You stole her from her home and claim to have killed her mother. You’re a monster.”
Grax held up his hands in exasperation. “Where’s that nanny-soldier of yours, Captain? Maybe he can quiet the child.” Grax glanced around and spotted Kael. “There you are. Take care of that child.”
“I am no nanny,” Kael said.
“Do I care what you think? Take the child.”
Kael stood tall. “Here’s what I think. I think you’re going to get us all killed. I’m a contractos, but money does a dead man no good.” Several of Kael’s companions murmured their agreement.
“How dare you speak to me in that way,” Grax said. “You’ll refer to me with proper deference.”
“He’s led us into this, Captain,” Kael said. “This forest is cursed. Those weren’t trained animals. They were enchanted. Neros didn’t just get stuck under a root by accident; he was killed by that tree. That tree was alive. This forest is going to kill all of us.”
“Have I hired a company of cowards?” Grax asked.
“This isn’t our kind of work, Captain,” Kael continued. “Stealing children and taking this young lady. It’s not right and we’re getting punished for it. We need to give them back.”
“Give them back?” Grax said. “That one,” he pointed to Orlos, “is the next Duke of the South Teren. And the other one,” he pointed to a now quiet Enna, “is the daughter of Prince Morin! Do you have any idea of what that means? No, you’re too daft.” He turned to Captain Saunder. “You’ll finish your contract. And you’ll keep your men in line.”
“My men will do as they’re told. And they’ll fight hard when there’s fighting to be done,” Saunder said. “But Kael’s made a valid point. We have to consider the situation facing us.”
“You let your men challenge you openly?”
“No one here has challenged my authority. I’ll let a man raise a point if it needs to be raised. And when I’ve heard enough I make my decision.”
“Well I’ve heard enough. You’re a mercenary and you’re under contract. Get the job done.”
“Baron Grax, the job’s not getting done if we’re overwhelmed by another attack.”
“Let us go,” Maret said. “Let us go and there will be no more attacks.”
Grax glared at Maret. “And now this one thinks she has the right to speak?” He turned on Kael and the soldiers nearby, and raising his voice said, “There will be no more attacks because we killed all of the animals, we drove off the two Landomeri harassing us, and our pursuers are far behind us. If we keep riding we will be in the South Teren in two days and will not have to worry about any of this any longer.”
“You gamble our lives on three things you do not know,” Kael replied.
“Enough of this,” Grax said. “I’ve made my decision. We light the burial pyre, burn what we cannot carry, and ride for Salador.” He pointed at Saunder. “Do it, or I’ll see to it you never have another contract anywhere in the Kingdom of Salador.”
Saunder opened his mouth, and then bit off his reply. He turned to Kael and said, “Make certain Lady Maret and the children are ready to ride. We leave immediately.”
Maret watched Saunder, Grax, and the other soldiers march off. Dead animals littered the area—many nearby, where the fighting was fiercest. And down the slope, a group of Idorians prepared their dead comrades for the funeral pyre. Many of the dead had faces savaged by talons and teeth.
There were dead horses as well. And a pile of equipment and plunder from Long Meadow set atop a pile of branches. They’ve lost too many horses and must burn their supplies.
Kael approached and knelt near Maret. “Is there anything you need?” he asked. “I’ll bring some food.”
“Thank you, Kael,” Maret said.
“For what?”
“For standing up to Baron Grax.” She gave Kael a smile.
Kael shrugged and grimaced at the motion. “For what good it did.”
“Your back? Is it bad? And you took more arrows last night.”
“I will be fine. I’ve been wounded worse. And last night’s arrows left only bruises. They did not penetrate my aketon. Come. Let’s get you fed and the little ones ready to ride.”
It took some time, but the soldiers were professionals, and it was still the first quarter when they departed the camp. Maret looked away as Captain Saunder lit the funeral pyre the Idorians had built for their dead comrades.
But when she turned away her eyes fell upon the huge bear that had attempted to rescue her. If she had only understood right away what it wanted. Maybe then she would have escaped. But instead the noble beast had died for her. For nothing.
The other fire had already been lit. On it the Saladorans had tossed Landomeri bows, arrows, and spears, as well as saddles, tack, and camping gear they were abandoning.
Where are you, Hadde? Where are you? Maret’s gaze went back to the forest. She couldn’t be dead. The Idorians had said that they had shot her, but she had gotten away. How bad could it have been?
Hadde had saved every Maiden from the Great Keep when they had been captured. She had hunted down and killed Earl Waltas all by herself. She had slain Akinos. She couldn’t be dead.
But Hadde had been wounded. Seriously wounded by a varcolac and only the Orb of Creation had been able to heal her. She had been as close to death as one could get. Was she out in the forest, clinging to life. Don’t think it. Don’t even think it.
Orlos’s cries pulled her away from her dark thoughts. For most of the journey he had been the calmer of the two children, although it was terribly difficult on both of them. But ever since the night’s animal attack he had been almost inconsolable. Poor Enna had cried herself to sleep once again.
Maret herself didn’t know how much more she could take. The strain of feeding and caring for two despondent children, the fatigue of non-stop travel, the fear… she was wearing thin. It was all she could do to stay on the horse. At least the pain kept her awake. Days of riding had worn her legs raw, so much that they bled. A fall from a horse, with Orlos in her arms, could kill him.
Her spirit would have broken if not for Kael. She knew Saunder had ordered Kael to help with the children, but he didn’t seem to resent it. He cared for both children as if they were his own. Surely he would have preferred to ride with his companions, but he never offered a harsh word to her.
Kael soon returned with a bowl of hard cheese, camp biscuits, and jerked beef. He put the bowl and a water skin next to her. “Eat up,” he said. “We’ll leave soon.”
“Thank you. You are being very good to me. When the Landomeri attack I’ll ask them to spare your life.”
He gave a resigned laugh. “That’s very kind of you, my lady.”
She bit off a hunk of salted pork and followed it with a bit of biscuit. How she missed the food of the Maiden Hall in Sal-Oras! Landomeri food was so plain, but soldier’s food was the worst she had ever endured.
“If I end up a Saladoran lady, I will hire you for my personal guard,” Maret said. “It is the least… the least I can do for you.”
Kael shook his head. “I am a poor bodyguard. That is how I ended up a contractos.”
“No, you are a wonderful bodyguard. I mean it. I don’t want any harm to come to you.”
Kael fidgeted with his belt. “It is kind of you to say so. I like you and the little ones.”
Maret glanced around to make certain no one else was near. “I, ah…” she started.
Kael frowned. “What is it?”
Maret kept her voice low. “Would you… would you help me?”
“Help you? Escape, you mean?” His eyes widened and he shook his head. “Forsvar protect me, no!”
“But—”
“You know what they call
a traitor in a company of contractos?”
“No.”
“Dead. Now finish up.”
Maret turned away from him. If Kael wouldn’t help her, who would?
Chapter Nineteen
Nidon rode through the city streets towards the Inn of the Dancing Horse. The crowded Merchant’s Quarter surrounded him, the people for the most part ignoring him and Rayne as they pursued their own tasks. Some gave him furtive smiles, but few openly acknowledged him. Bad luck to talk to a dead man? Or bad luck to show favor to the queen’s enemy?
He was hot and tired, having fought several bouts with his men in preparation for the next day’s tournament. He couldn’t help but think his men had put a little extra into their blows in payment for their poor treatment at the hands of the queen. Nidon couldn’t blame them, even if they had taken their frustrations out on the wrong person.
His soldiers chafed at the order to remain in the Queen’s Garden – and rightly so. The word prison had been uttered more than once. Their rations were short, they had no money, and the pleasures and comforts of the city were just a short distance away.
He had promised them that things were soon to change. If he won the tournament it would reestablish his rightful place as Champion of Salador. The queen would not be able to deny the men their pay.
And she would not be able to stop him from seeing the king.
And what then? After his men were paid and free from their camp? After he had seen the king? He thought back to the moans he had heard behind the door. What kind of sickness could a man have for a year and a half that would leave him incapable of speech, but still strong enough to make such a noise? The king had taken a terrible wound to his head, and that could certainly knock a man insensible, or even permanently ruin his mind.
But would it cause a Wasting disease as the queen had said? He thought back to the herbs and food he had seen by the door. And of the salt. Nidon reined Thunder in and wiped the sweat from his brow. Another brutally hot day in a series of brutally hot days.