by Matt Heppe
“Your son will be powerful.”
“He will be Baron Grax’s puppet.”
They paused at the keep where Lady Alma and Renae stood at the open door. Kael bowed slightly, still holding Orlos, “My lady,” he said before turning back to Maret. “I beg my leave of you, Lady Maret.”
“Thank you for your escort, Kael,” Maret said as Renae took Orlos from him.
As Kael left, Baroness Alma said, “He seems a fearsome man, but he has manners.”
“He was very kind to me during our journey,” Maret said, glancing over her shoulder as Kael led his horse away. “Lady Alma, I am exhausted. I beg of you, I must go to my room. I need food and must rest.”
“Of course.” Alma led Maret into the hall and up the staircase. “What of my husband, Lady Maret? And the others?”
“They set off in pursuit of my friend, who they tried to kill.”
“Oh?” Alma put her hand to her mouth. “I’m sure it wasn’t like that.”
“It was. Your husband is in league with an evil man, Lady Alma.”
“You mustn’t speak that way! It certainly isn’t true.”
Maret didn’t attempt to argue her case. What difference would it make? No one was going to save her. She would have to do it herself, or make the best of her life in Salador.
“I will have food sent up to you,” Alma said to Maret, more stiffly than she had spoken before.
“Thank you,” Maret said as Alma departed. Maret went to the bed and gently lay Enna on it. She motioned for Renae to put Orlos there as well.
“What can I get the lady?” Renae asked.
Maret jumped as thunder pealed outside the window. Lightning flashed and the cloud-darkened room was suddenly brightly lit.
“That was close.” Maret glanced down at the children, but they didn’t stir. She sighed her relief. Just a few minutes of peace. That’s all I need. “A washcloth and cool water,” Maret said as she lay down upon the quilt next to the children. “And pea porridge for the children.” The mattress was lumpy, but she was too tired to care. Thunder pealed again, but she barely noticed as she fell asleep.
Maret awoke to shouted commands and an alarm bell. For a moment she lay staring at the ceiling wondering where she was. Stone wall. Sal-Oras? But it wasn’t the Maiden Hall. She sat up as a baby started to cry.
Renae held Orlos as she looked out the window into the bailey. Next to Maret, Enna let out a wail as she woke. Maret scooped the baby into her arms.
No, not Sal Oras. A world away from that life.
Maret joined Renae at the window. In the courtyard just below, Grax shouted, “To the walls! The enemy is near!” Grax was rain soaked, his white tabard splattered with blood. When he turned, Maret was shocked to see two arrows sticking from his back, but he didn’t seem to notice them. If only they had penetrated his armor.
Captain Saunder strode up to Grax. “How many? What’s going on?”
“Get your men to the walls,” Grax commanded. “And don’t speak to me of contracts. The Landomeri arrows won’t care.”
“Where are they? How far?”
“A dozen already here. A hundred more shortly.”
Saunder glanced around the bailey, where his men quickly armed.
“There’s no time to leave, mercenary,” Grax said. “You’ll fight.”
“Where are the rest of my men? Only one returned with you.”
“They aren’t your men any longer. And they are dead, captured, or scattered.”
Saunder strode from him without comment, shouting orders in Idorian.
“Squire Errol,” Grax called out. “I need a messenger. A good man on a fast horse.”
Errol ran up to Grax and saluted. “Where is Lord Tomar?”
“Fallen.”
“Fallen? But—”
“Fallen. Captured or dead, I don’t know. And we might fall as well if you don’t heed my orders. I need a messenger, now!”
Errol glanced around the bailey. “I—I will go.”
“Good.” Grax yanked off his gauntlets and gloves and pulled a heavy ring from his finger. “Take this ring to Lord Captain Nedelos in Telenton. Tell him he must ride to me with utmost speed, with at least one hundred men immediately and more following. We face a hundred Landomeri or more.”
“I will, my lord.”
“Tell him also that my mission was successful. But all will be for nothing if he does not come to me now. One hundred men. Go!”
Errol turned and ran for the stable, calling for his horse as he ran.
Maret whirled from the window. “Renae, is there a guard outside my door?”
“A guard? Why, ah, no.”
“You must show me a way out of the castle. Another way out besides through the bailey.”
Renae’s eyes widened. “But, my lady, you must not leave. It is dangerous.”
“There is a way. You must show me.”
“There is a sally port, but even if we get to it, you would be spotted from the walls.”
“It doesn’t matter. I must get out.”
Renae backed toward the door, Orlos still in her arms. “I must see Baroness Alma. I must ask her permission.”
“Wait,” Maret said, suddenly fearful Renae might take Orlos with her. She placed Enna on the bed and then drew her Spiridus Token from around her neck. Holding the chain taut, she snapped it in two against the corner of a heavy table. She removed the token and held the chain out to the Renae. “It’s gold. It’s yours if you show me the way.”
Renae stared at the heavy chain. “I will be punished.”
“It’s yours if you lead me out. Show me the way. If we aren’t seen you can tell them I left when you weren’t in the room. If we are seen we can tell them we are taking the children to safety—away from the windows.”
“But—”
“It’s a lot of gold. You can make a new life for yourself.” Maret went to the bed and picked up Enna. “Here, if we are caught in the halls we will just say that I demanded to speak with the baroness and you were taking me to her.”
Renae gave a nervous nod. “We—we will have to pass through the entry hall. I must see that it is clear.”
“Give both children to me,” Maret said.
They left the room and turned down the narrow stairwell to the main floor. Renae motioned for Maret to wait as she went to the bottom step and peered out into the entrance.
For once, Enna quieted. Good girl. That’s my baby.
Maret saw someone in a dress sweep by, but could only see the woman’s legs from her angle. A moment later the baroness’ voice could be heard in the bailey.
Renae waved Maret down the stairs as she disappeared around the corner. Maret followed her without pausing to see that the way was clear. Thank Forsvar the children are quiet. Both were awake, but seemed content to stare at their surroundings.
As soon as she hit the entrance hall, Renae pulled her into another, darker corridor. They hustled along, as fast as Maret could manage. She just had to get beyond the moat. Grax’s men would not dare shoot her while she held Orlos. And once the Landomeri found her, she would be free.
They turned left at a lantern-lit doorway at the end of the hall. One of the keep’s four towers. “How far?” Maret asked.
“Very near. The end of this hall.”
A man approached from the hall in front of them. The valet, Pator. “Where are you taking Lady Maret, Renae?”
“I… ah—”
“You leave me in a room with exterior windows?” Maret said. She let her anger show—it was easy enough. “What are you thinking? With a battle about to commence? Do you want the children killed by a stray arrow? This is the future Duke of the South Teren. Tell me, what were you thinking?”
“My apologies, lady. We would have seen you moved.”
“You would have? When?”
“My apologies, lady. I’ll see you to safety.”
“Renae is helping me to safety well enough, unless the walls have already been br
eached?”
“No they have not, my lady.”
“Go see to it that they aren’t. Take up your arms.”
“I will, my lady.” He paused as if to say something more, but then bowed and ran off.
“Go.” Maret shooed Renae forward. “Before he says anything to Baron Grax. Run!”
They ran down the hall to another lantern-lit doorway. “In here,” Renae said. They entered a square tower room half filled with refuse. A stone stairwell led up to a closed trap door.
Maret heard men speaking above. Soldiers manning the tower? Crossbowmen?
“Here,” Renae said, standing by an iron bound door.
“Open it!”
“We can’t.” Renae wrung her hands. “It will be the death of me.”
“Come with me. You’ll be safe with the Landomeri. I’ll give you more gold. You’ll never have to fear.”
Renae started to cry, tears streaming down her face.
“Do it!” Maret commanded. She’d used the tone on servants before. It shamed her now to think of it. But it worked. Renae turned and shot two iron bolts. But then she struggled with the bar.
“Hurry!” Maret peered out into the hall, but saw no one. Enna started to fuss. “No, baby,” Maret said, “don’t cry now.”
The bar crashed to the floor. “Open the door, quickly!”
Renae strained against the door, but it wouldn’t move. It barely budged at first, rusted iron hinges groaning in protest. But then it broke free and opened wide. Maret rushed through the door as both children started bawling.
Bright light flooded through the door, blinding Maret for a moment. Before her a dirt bank sloped into the moat. It wasn’t wide—only five strides across. There’s no way across. Fear engulfed Maret as she stared back and forth along the back wall of the keep.
She spun back to the doorway where Renae stood, terrified. “How do I get across?”
“They use a ladder as a bridge,” Renae said, barely loud enough to hear.
“Where?” Maret looked around. “Where is it?”
Renae backed up. “In here.” She looked behind her, biting her lip.
“Get it! Hurry!”
Renae disappeared into the tower.
“You! Down there!” a man’s voice called from above. He wore Baron Tomar’s livery, a black stag on a white field. “What are you doing? Get back in here.” His eyes shifted beyond the moat. “The enemy is coming.”
Maret backed toward the moat, slipped, and barely caught herself as she slid down the wet bank. Her foot sank into the muddy water. She had fallen on her knee, now pressed against the sodden bank.
Desperate, Maret searched for some escape. She could run along the base of the wall, but it would just bring her to the gatehouse and the drawbridge. She would just be captured there.
She glanced across the moat and saw a group of horsemen in the distance. Landomeri. Hope surged in her. She had to get free.
“Get back in here!” the man shouted again.
Maret tried to stand, but only slipped again, this time falling backward into the moat. She wrenched herself forward, but the weight of the children was too much, and for a moment she went under.
Her lungs filled with water. She clung to the children as she foundered. I can’t swim! We’ll drown!
But then her feet struck bottom and she got them under her. She stood, choking, desperately holding on to the children. She was waist deep.
“Get them,” a man shouted. Maret turned to the far bank and walked deeper into the moat. Her lungs burned as coughs wracked her. The children wailed. But she had to escape.
Pounding hoof beats. Through water-bleared eyes she saw riders approaching. She pushed forward, the water up to her chest. Half way.
The door clanged behind her. Arrows whistled overhead and a man shouted out in pain. A crossbow snapped as more arrows cracked against the wall.
And then a huge splash and a man had her. An armored arm wrapped around her neck twisting her face so that she saw it was Grax who held her. Anger contorted his face. He held a sword in front of her—half brandished at the Landomeri, half threatening her and the children.
The five riders reined in their mounts in front of the moat. Four loosed a stream of arrows at the tower defenders. The fifth was Hadde.
“Let them go!” Hadde shouted. She held her bow half-drawn.
“Back! Get back or I’ll kill her,” Grax said.
Maret quailed at his voice. He would never give her up.
“Do you want to live?” Hadde said. But she didn’t wait for a response before drawing and loosing her arrow.
Maret flinched as the arrow flew at them. Grax shouted and his grip loosened for a moment. Blood streamed down the side of his face. His ear was torn in half.
“Dromost! Are you mad? I’ll kill your daughter!”
“Do you want to live?” Hadde loosed another arrow that flew just over Grax’s head.
Grax fell back, taking Maret with him. She would have gone under if he hadn’t been under her. His arm slipped from around her neck, but before she could break from him he had her around the waist, lifting her from the water. He was immensely strong.
Hadde already had another arrow nocked, but now Grax raised Maret and the children like a shield. Inexorably, he dragged them up the bank toward the keep.
“You’re mad,” he shouted at Hadde as he pulled them toward the door.
“You only live as long as they do,” Hadde said. “No longer.”
Chapter Twenty-six
Hadde was about to dismount and pursue Grax into the keep when Bera seized her arm. “Come, Hadde, we have to ride off.”
Fend and another Landomeri loosed arrows at the walls. A hunter she didn’t know had fallen, a bolt in his chest.
“I have to go after them!” Hadde tried to pull free of Bera so she could dismount.
“Ride away!” Fend shouted. “More are coming!”
He was right. More crossbowmen appeared on the wall just as the sally port clanged shut. She was too late. Hadde and the three remaining Landomeri rode off pursued by crossbow bolts.
Hadde stared back at the closed door. I should have gone after them. I could have saved Enna. Baron Grax wasn’t wearing a helm. He could not have held Hadde off and held Maret and the children at the same time. She should have dismounted and swum the moat.
“This way,” Bera said beside her. But she might as well have not been there at all. Hadde heard her words as if through a fog.
Her arrow had come so close. Grax had flinched at the very last moment. A thumb-length right and the arrow would have been in his eye and it would all be over.
“Hadde, let’s join the others.”
Hadde closed her eyes and swayed in the saddle. She imagined the shot again. Grax was watching her as she shot. She should have known he would flinch. She should have predicted it. In her mind she aimed just a little right.
That would have done it.
“Hadde….”
She slumped in her saddle as darkness overtook her.
A ride in someone’s arms. Her wounds being tended to. Cool water bathing her. And then darkness again.
And dreams. Nightmares of Enna being torn from her grasp by silver eternals. Being chased by unseen creatures intent on death. Belor’s death. Morin draining her life with his silver touch.
A varcolac, it’s face contorted in rage, flinging a javelin at her chest. Its spinning head slowly approaching, but she was unable to move. And then it struck her, shattering her ribs and plunging into her body.
She gasped at the agony. At death finally coming to take her.
“Hadde, I am with you,” a deep voice said.
She opened her eyes. “Father?” she said, barely making out his face in the fire-lit room. “Where am I?” She sat up and he embraced her in a powerful hug.
“A cottage. The owners fled as we approached.”
Hadde glanced around the room as her father released her. Plaster walls instead of wood
, but otherwise it could have been a Landomeri home. Beyond a half door she heard the shuffling of animals.
Closer, a door stood open to the dim landscape outside. “Is it night? How long have I been asleep?”
“Just the night through,” Arno replied. “It’s morning now.”
Hadde grimaced. “Calen and I tried so hard to stop them.”
“We came as fast as we could,” Arno said. He took Hadde’s hand in his. “A halfday sooner and we could have halted them in the Great Forest.”
Hadde sat up and put her legs over the edge of the bed. She glanced down at herself and was surprised to see someone else’s clothes. She wore short linen pants like Saladoran women wore under their dresses, and a brown dyed linen shirt that was too big for her.
“Bera washed you and dressed your wounds. We borrowed some clothing from the former residents.”
“I don’t remember any of it.” Hadde raised her right arm, bound with fresh bandages. It was sore from where the bolt had struck, but she could still use it.
“You were more than half asleep. She even re-braided your hair. Your hunting tunic and leggings are drying outside. Fend mended them as well as he could.”
“I’m so sleepy still. Where are Bera and Fend? I need to thank them. I would have died at the castle if they had not dragged me away.” She thought about the arrows she had loosed at Grax while he held Maret and the children. What was I thinking?
“They’re at the castle. You’ll see them soon enough. And they were more than happy to help you. You are a hero to them. To all of us. How much rest have you had in the past few days?”
“There was no time for rest. And I’m no hero. I failed. And while I’ve been sleeping—”
“While you’ve been sleeping we surrounded the castle and killed several defenders who showed too much of themselves on the wall. They are more wary now.”
“How many Landomeri came with you?” Hadde asked.
“Just over seventy, and more are wandering in. But we don’t know how many are within the walls. They haven’t shown any desire to come out.”
“There were maybe twenty-five remaining of those Calen and I pursued. But I’ve no idea how many others were in the castle.” Hadde paused a moment. “But even if that is all they have, we can’t storm the keep. They are too well armed.”