by Matt Heppe
“We are not for hire. I am done working for you,” Saunder said. “We’ll take our pay and be off.”
“Not before this is done.” Grax turned and said something to Baron Tomar, but it was too quiet for Maret to hear. Tomar nodded, and in turn whispered something to another man, perhaps his squire, who turned and strode for the keep. As the squire walked away, Tomar glanced toward Maret’s window. She ducked back, but not before he saw her.
Grax turned to Saunder’s men. “I’ll pay eight of you each a royal for a quarter day of service,” Grax shouted to them. His voice drew her back to the window.
“Hold there,” Saunder said as Grax stepped past him, putting his hand on Grax’s arm to stop him as he stepped past.
“Unhand me!” Grax said as he turned on Saunder. “You might be a Captain, but you are still common. You will not lay a hand on me.”
Around the bailey hands went to weapons. Everyone watched the two men. Tomar’s men-at-arms no longer stood idle. Guards at the gate turned their attention inside the keep.
Would they fight? Maret counted men. Saunder had the numbers to take the keep, but his men were not in armor, and many did not have weapons at hand. Tomar had men in full harness, and he held the tower secure.
But more importantly, if they fought, could she use the opportunity to escape? Or if Saunder won, would he let her go? He was a mercenary and had no interest in her.
“My apologies,” Saunder said, stepping back and bowing to Baron Grax. “I meant no offense.”
Grax ignored him. “Who will take my offer?” he called out. The mercenaries eyed him warily.
“Any who go with Baron Grax will not work for me again,” Saunder said, just loud enough for all to hear.
Grax gave him an angry glance and then turned to the mercenaries. “A royal and I will hire you into my personal service. No more risking your necks. You’ll garrison my keep.”
“I’ll do it,” a man called out. As did another.
“Stand fast,” Kael shouted. “You heard the captain. You are done with us if you go with the Baron.”
“Fine by me,” said an Idorian with a bandaged face. “I had enough of the captain’s adventures. A piece of gold and garrison duty will suit me.”
“Same here,” said a third man. “Garrison duty under a rich baron. I’ll take it.”
“Good men,” Grax said. “I need five more.”
A knock at the door pulled Maret’s attention away from the window. Baroness Alma swept into the room. “You are needed, Lady Maret,” she said. “Quickly, we must do your hair and you must come with me.”
“What’s happening?”
“Good news,” the baroness beamed. “The Landomeri child is being returned to her mother.”
“What? How?” Maret’s heart thudded in her chest. Was there still some hope?
The baroness made her way to the sleeping children. “Poor thing, I hate to wake her.” She tisked. “Come, Lady Maret, it is a good thing. The woman was a companion of your friend, Madde.”
“Hadde?”
“That’s it. And Baron Tomar thought it best that you be there to take the girl to her mother.” She faced Renae. “Quickly now, finish her hair.”
“Is that why they are gathering soldiers outside?” Maret asked as she returned to her seat. “Why do they need so many?”
Baroness Alma shrugged. “That is not my concern. My dear, I am certain it is for your protection.”
“What about Orlos?”
“I will watch the dear child.”
“No.” Maret glanced at her sleeping son. “I will not leave him.”
“He is an earl. He will someday be Duke of the South Teren. I would not let a hair on his head be harmed.”
The woman meant it, Maret was certain. But Maret didn’t like it. She couldn’t trust them – any of them. “Baron Grax wants revenge on Hadde. He won’t just give her child back.”
“I know nothing of it. Good, your hair is done, or at least well enough.” She took a cap and veil from the table and placed them on Maret’s head. “Wonderful.”
By some miracle Enna didn’t wake as Maret lifted her from the bed. What choice did Maret have? Enna would never be saved while she stayed in the keep. But out there… maybe she would have a chance.
Chapter Twenty-three
“They have agreed to give back your daughter,” Dyna said as she rode up to the small camp Hadde had set up. It was a simple brush shelter to the lee of a windbreak on a fallow field. She had built it more out of boredom and frustration at her powerlessness than out of any real need.
“When?” Hadde asked.
“Now.”
“How is that possible? How did you convince them?” Hadde’s heart beat quicker in her chest.
“Baron Tomar did not like the idea of a child hostage on his land. He convinced Baron Grax to give your daughter back. I told you he was a good man.”
Hadde picked up her bow and mounted Quickstep. It was good to have a Landomeri pony under her again. Dyna had readily agreed to trading horses. Quickstep appeared well-rested and well-fed. A good thing, because the moment she had Enna in her hands she would gallop for the forest and not stop until she reached it. And only when Enna was safe with her parents would she return for Maret and Orlos.
Hadde checked her sword in its sheath and nodded to Dyna. “I’m ready.”
They rode only a short distance, five arrowflights, when Dyna raised her hand. “Here. In this field.”
“And they are on their way?”
“They were going to leave right after me. As soon as they could gather your friend and your daughter.”
Dense hedges surrounded the field. A ruined cottage stood in one corner. The location made for an easy ambush. “Could they be here already?” Hadde asked.
“Impossible,” Dyna said.
Hadde drew her bow from its case. “Let’s watch for their approach. I don’t want them sneaking up.”
Dyna shook her head. “There’s no need.”
“Still, I want to be certain.” She rode Quickstep across the field. It appeared no person except Dyna had been there since the Wasting had driven out the cottage-dwellers years before.
She halted her horse and peered through the windbreak. Just empty fields and a long unused track. Dyna rode up behind her, but Hadde didn’t turn or speak with her. Soon, Maret and Enna would appear. Is it too much to believe I will get Enna back? She knew it was.
Through the windbreak Hadde saw riders approaching. Saladoran knights and Idorian mounted crossbowmen. And Maret with Enna in her arms. Another rider held Orlos. Hadde was surprised to see him. It made no sense for him to be there as well.
The party rode in a column with no scouts. As Hadde watched, they slowed to a walk. There were more of them than was necessary to give her daughter back. But then again, they might fear an ambush as well.
“We should go to our end of the field. That is where we are to wait,” Dyna said.
They cantered to the opposite end of the field and waited for Grax’s party to arrive. A mounted crossbowman appeared through the break. Hadde’s eyes swept the edges of the field. No sign of movement. “Be wary,” she said. “I don’t trust them.”
“They’ll return your child.” Dyna’s horse shuffled nervously under her. “Baron Tomar is good to us.”
The Saladorans emerged from the windbreak and formed a line facing Hadde. Her heart pounded as she spotted Enna. Hadde reached down and loosened her bow in its case.
“Don’t take it out,” Dyna warned.
“The crossbowmen have their crossbows in their hands.”
“They’ll stay where they are. Your friend will meet you in the middle of the field.” Dyna pointed. “Look, she’s coming.”
Maret’s horse walked toward them, with Maret constantly glancing over her shoulder at the Saladorans.
“Go now,” Dyna urged. “She won’t ride all the way to us.”
“Why not?” Hadde asked. “They have her son. She
won’t leave.”
“You have to. It is what we agreed to.”
“I’ll wait for her here.”
Dyna frowned. “No. You can’t.” She paused, glancing toward the other party. “You don’t understand. Saladorans have rules. They have ways they do things and will do them no other way.”
“I know Saladorans,” Hadde said.
Grax shouted a command. Maret stopped her horse just forty strides from the Saladorans. She glanced back to the men and then stared at Hadde.
Hadde rose in her stirrups and waved Maret forward. A man’s voice again. Maret shook her head, no.
What did Maret mean? No, she can’t come forward? Or no, Hadde should not be here at all?
“Go closer,” Dyna said. “At least part way. They will let her come to you then.”
Hadde’s eyes ran up and down the flanking tree line. No horsemen, at least. She put her heels to Quickstep and advanced into the field. As she came closer, she could hear the child’s cries. It was her daughter. Hadde couldn’t help the tears that welled up in her own eyes.
She had to get Enna back.
Hadde’s spirits lifted as Maret rode closer, but at another command she halted again. Still too close to the crossbowmen for her liking. Dare she go closer? A single crossbow bolt could wound her horse and it would all be over. She would never escape.
She was too close already.
“Ride to me, Maret,” Hadde called out.
“Hold where you are,” Grax commanded.
Maret looked over her shoulder and back at Hadde. “It’s a trap,” Maret said, quiet enough that Hadde could barely hear her.
“I know,” Hadde said.
Hoof beats sounded behind her. Hadde felt a moment of alarm, but turned to see Dyna approaching at a trot. She pulled up at Hadde’s horse’s head. “You are taking too long. Go and get your child.”
“I am already too close,” Hadde said. “I have to leave. They will shoot me – maybe all of us if I go closer.” Saying the words brought fresh tears to her eyes. “Or you, Dyna. You could do it.”
Dyna reached out and grabbed Quickstep’s bridle. Turning to the Saladorans, she shouted, “Here! I have her!”
Hadde pulled back at the reins and her horse reared a little, but it was to no avail. Dyna had too good a hold. Hadde snatched her hunting knife from its sheath and lunged forward to slash at Dyna. The wild swing cut through her trousers and scored her thigh. Dyna cried out in pain, but didn’t let go.
Maret screamed. Hadde glanced beyond her to see the Saladorans charging.
Hadde rose in her stirrups and leaned over Quickstep’s neck to cut at Dyna’s hand, but Quickstep turned under her and the blow missed.
In desperation Hadde threw her knife. The pommel struck Dyna a glancing blow in the head, but it was enough. She let go.
Hadde yanked her horse around and dug her heels into Quickstep’s flanks. Clods of dirt flew as the horse raced across the field. Men shouted behind her. A bolt cut her shoulder and Quickstep shuddered as if he had been struck. But Quickstep galloped on, with Hadde kicking his flanks to urge him even faster.
The field edge was just ahead. She risked a quick glance behind. Three crossbowmen were close on her, just strides away. One had his crossbow raised, but at a full gallop could not aim. She couldn’t see Maret and Enna through the press of men.
Hadde veered for a gap in the tree line. She couldn’t slow her horse for fear of the crossbowmen. Quickstep jumped a log as branches swiped at Hadde. She pulled her bow from its case and had an arrow nocked as the first crossbowman emerged from the tree line.
He looked up only to catch her arrow in his face. As his horse reared and he fell from the saddle, Hadde gained precious strides on her pursuers. She nocked another arrow and let fly, but it flew wide. A crossbowman shot at her but his aim was high. The bolt hissed as it flew past her ear.
Another field and then open land until she reached Landomere. She had to gain ground on them. They were armored men on bigger horses, she had to hope they would tire.
She made the edge of the field. Still they were close on her. If they had fired any more bolts, she had not seen them. She held her own arrows and leaned low over her horse’s neck for every stride of speed.
This tree line was thinner. No obstacles to slow her down. Or her enemies. She loosed another arrow as the Idorians left the tree line. It struck a horse, and horse and rider fell. She could make it.
But then Quickstep lurched again. A bolt protruded from his rump and his gait began to falter. “On! On!” Hadde shouted. If she could just make the forest. Even dismounted, she stood a chance in Landomere.
So few arrows. Ten more? She loosed two in quick succession. The second struck a crossbowman in the chest, but his mail held.
The crossbowmen couldn’t span his bow at this pace, or at least she hoped. But Quickstep was flagging, his gate lurching with every stride.
A thunderclap pealed overhead and the wind struck her dead on. She shot three more arrows to no effect, the wind and her horse’s irregular gait throwing off her aim. But the threat of the arrows slowed her pursuers. The knights, four or five at least, caught up to the wary crossbowmen.
Quickstep was fading. Even the heavily armored knights gained on her now. The river was just ahead, but she would never make it. Even if she did, it would slow her enough that the crossbowmen could easily hit her.
Quickstep lurched and halted. Hadde grabbed the last handful of arrows and leapt free. She ran, knowing it was helpless. She could feel the thunder of approaching hooves. Just fifty strides from the river she turned to face her attackers.
Five arrows. She would loose them all before they would take her.
A crossbowman drew his sword and charged. Her arrow struck him in the shoulder. Not deep, but enough. With an anguished cry he veered off.
Next on her was a knight. He lowered his sword like a lance and made for her. Her second arrow broke on his coat-of-plates.
She nocked another arrow and loosed. And then the air was filled with the hum of arrows. Several struck the knight charging her and his horse toppled violently forward, throwing the knight to Hadde’s feet.
All around her, arrows struck the horsemen and their mounts. Several fell, but a few, further back than the others, turned and fled.
With a monstrous thunderclap the storm arrived. She loosed a final arrow at a retreating knight—Grax. She cursed as it flew hopelessly wide on the wind.
Drenching rain struck, soaking her. She turned to find dozens of Landomeri pouring across the river, many on horseback. Through the sheets of rain, it appeared that a few had set off in pursuit of the fleeing Saladorans, while others checked on the fallen Saladoran and Idorian horsemen.
“Hadde!” Arno called as he rode up. He leaped from the saddle and embraced her. “You’re wounded!”
She glanced down at her arm. “It isn’t bad.”
“Watch out,” he said, looking past her. The knight on the ground near her moaned and rolled over. He had lost his helm and his face was a mask of anguish. Arno pushed past Hadde, kneeled on the man’s chest, and seized the dagger from the knight’s belt.
“I submit,” the knight said. “I am Baron Tomar and I surrender to you. My leg is broken.”
“I must take your horse, Father,” Hadde said. “I might still catch Maret and Enna before they return to the keep.”
“Too late,” Tomar said. He lay on his back, making no effort to get free of Arno. “Squire Errol and my valet took them back.”
Hadde ignored him. “I must go and see, Father. But follow behind.” She glanced around as other Landomeri joined them. “We can’t let word get back to the keep that you have arrived. They will prepare a defense or take the children away.”
She went to Arno’s horse.
“Take him,” Arno said.
“We will go with you.” Hadde turned at Bera’s voice. Fend rode beside her.
“I am glad you two are with me,” Hadde said as she va
ulted into the saddle.
Chapter Twenty-four
“Nidon! Nidon! Nidon!” The cheers washed over the tournament grounds. Supporters climbed over the list’s stout fence and clapped him on the shoulders and back even as Rayne struggled with Nidon’s chin strap.
Finally free of his helm, Nidon sucked in lungfulls of air. Sweat streamed down his face. He tugged off his arming cap and wiped his brow.
The varcolac were gone, marching in a wedge from the grounds as they bore Ragos with them. The crowd parted before them as if sheep before wolves. For the moment Nidon was safe. But for how long?
The queen’s creamy skin was blotched red and her lips quivered with anger. Forsvar’s rim blazed and crackled with power. She said something and a row of her Queen’s Guard took position in front of her reviewing stand, pole-axes held ready.
She is angry… and afraid.
Beside her Prince Handrin applauded and called something out. Is he chanting my name along with the crowd? Nidon needed the prince if his plan had any hope of success. Forsvar protect me, I might need the boy to keep my head.
Nidon gave his sword to Rayne, who now held Nidon’s helm, stuffed with his gauntlets, cradled in one arm, and the knight’s longsword in his hand. He beamed up at Nidon, who gave him a quick nod and a wink in return.
Nidon motioned for those who stood in front of him to move aside, and he approached the reviewing stand. The guards didn’t flinch as he closed on them, their wary eyes scanning the crowd.
Nidon took a knee and bowed his head toward the queen, his lowered gaze taking in only the dusty boots of the guardsman nearest him. After only a few heartbeats of silence, Nidon raised his eyes.
Ilana stood above him, Forsvar was held close against her body, as if she expected a blow to land at any moment. She glanced off in the direction of the departing varcolac and then just as quickly back to Nidon.
Prince Handrin looked at his mother. To Nidon she seemed smaller. The regal power she usually projected seemed dimmed, even with the Godshield on her arm.
Handrin’s eyes went to Nidon. He was clearly confused and more than a little anxious at his mother’s state. Nidon met the prince’s eyes and held his gaze. He gave Handrin a slow, deliberate nod, hoping the boy understood.