by Matt Heppe
“There is someone who might be of help,” Arno said. “Come along with me.” Hadde pulled on her boots and followed her father out the door. The sky was bright with a new dawn, although the sun had not yet made an appearance over the horizon. There was a fire outside and her clothes hung from a simple frame near it.
Hadde dressed as her father picked up her bowcase, sword, and quiver that had been lying by the door.
Arno handed her sword belt to her. “You lost your knife,” he said.
“I threw it at a Landomeri who betrayed me. She betrayed the Way of the Forest.” She took the bowcase from him. “You took this from Quickstep. How is he?”
“Wounded, but he’ll be fine with enough care.”
“I’m glad. He’s a good horse.” She opened the bowcase. “I still have Bera’s bow.”
“She said to keep it. She has another now.”
Hadde tied the sword belt and quiver at her waist and put the bowcase over her shoulder. There were maybe a score of arrows in the quiver.
Arno led her to a nearby cottage where a tall, well-armed Landomeri stood guard. He wore a mail hauberk and had a longsword. A bowcase sat leaning against the wall. The sun had risen enough so that the top of the roof seemed aglow.
“Hail, Arno,” said the mail-clad Landomeri.
“Hello, Fain. This is my daughter, Hadde.”
“We’ve met,” said Fain. “Although you might not recognize me in mail. I came on a pilgrimage to meet the baby Orlos.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t remember. So many came to see Orlos.”
He smiled. “I’m not offended. There are probably so many who come to see the child.”
“Is our guest well?” Arno asked.
“He’s well, as well as he can be. He’s been sleeping, but he’s awake now.”
Arno knocked twice on the door and opened it wide. The room was dark, with the shutters drawn. Another peasant cottage like the one Hadde had found herself in. But in the bed in the corner of the room rested a Saladoran. He sat propped up facing the door. A candle burned on a side-table next to him. There was a horn cup and a plate with a sausage and a hard cheese. Hadde’s stomach growled at the sight of the food.
“How is the leg, Baron Tomar?” Arno asked.
Hadde glanced down and saw that Tomar’s leg was heavily splinted and bandaged.
“Well enough, Arno.” He looked at Hadde and said, “It was your arrow that did this to me.”
She crossed her arms. “I don’t remember shooting anyone in the leg.”
“No, you killed my horse and I broke my leg in the fall. A squire’s mistake. I should have rolled clear.” He shook his head as if in shame.
“Baron Tomar fell pursuing you near the river” Arno said.
“Tomar? This is your land.” Hadde took a step closer to him. “My child is a captive inside your keep. You must help us free her.”
Tomar raised his hand. “Understand, I had nothing to do with these events.”
“Nothing to do with them? You were charging at me! You would have killed me.”
“Yes, that. I had no choice in the matter. Baron Grax is my lord. I had to support him. But I had nothing to do with the capture of Lady Maret and the two children.”
Hadde strode to the bed, jabbing a finger in Tomar’s direction. “I don’t care! They are in your keep and you will help us get them out.” She felt her father’s restraining hand on her arm, but she shrugged him of.
“Of course,” Tomar said.
Hadde paused. “What do you mean?”
“Of course I will help.”
“You’ll help us get in?”
Tomar laughed, and then grimaced in pain. “No. I won’t help you get in. You’ll ransom me for Lady Maret and the children.”
“I don’t understand,” Arno said.
Tomar sighed. “You have my keep under siege, do you not?”
“We have it surrounded,” Arno said.
“Yes, we will call that under siege for what it’s worth. You will approach the keep under a flag of truce and request a parlay. When they meet you, you will offer to exchange me for Lady Maret and the children. It may take some time, for appearances sake. You’ll agree to lift the siege and depart, of course. It shouldn’t take more than a day or so.”
Tomar grimaced and reached to the bedside table for the cup and took a long drink. Hadde saw beads of sweat on his forehead.
“Baron Grax believes Orlos to be very important. He might not agree to the exchange,” Hadde said.
“He has no choice. His barons and knights will not follow him if they cannot trust him to exchange them for a lady and two children. He will make the exchange.”
“Other Saladorans will come to drive us off,” Arno said.
Tomar shrugged. “Part of the game. Look, both of you. I have little interest in Baron Grax’s games of power. I have little interest in war. The end of the Wasting has been good to me and I’d rather be left alone.” He took another drink and closed his eyes for a moment. “This wound is quite painful. I wish to be returned to my wife and to my keep. Let Grax and my wife, the Baroness Alma, know that you have me. Don’t give them hope of relief and they will make the exchange.”
***
Hadde and Arno walked a short distance to where the Landomeri had made camp. She stuffed her mouth with sausage and cheese from Tomar’s cottage. Even during the Wasting she could not remember ever having been so hungry. There were few Landomeri to be seen in the camp, most of them elderly or youths not ready to fight.
Those in camp busily set up shelters, tended the spare horses, or cared for the wounded coming back from the keep. Hadde and her father visited the wounded, grateful that there were so few and then went to the corral to find a horse. Quickstep’s wound had been properly treated and Hadde was confident he would heal. They saddled Breeze, one of the Long Meadow horses that the Idorians had taken and then lost in the forest.
When they were done, she and her father mounted and rode for the village. The sun was above the horizon and its rays promised another sweltering day. Hadde examined the castle as they rode closer. Around the castle rode scattered groups of Landomeri. For the most part they kept out of range of the keep’s defenders, but from time to time they rode close and loosed a few shafts towards the walls.
Arno shook his head. “We aren’t very good at this. Trying to get Landomeri to follow orders is like herding plains cats. I’ve tried to put some sense into them, but not with great luck.”
“The men inside are trained soldiers,” Hadde said. “If they ride out and we aren’t ready, Landomeri will die.”
“We’ve taken some precautions. During the night we threw up a barricade on our side of the moat. Mostly made of carts, a few tables, and some bits of the town wall. They won’t be able to charge out. And if they do, we have a score of archers ready for them.”
“Twenty hunters might not be able to hold them. We’d have to run.”
Arno shrugged. “Then we have our kind of fight. Out in the open where we can ride circles around them. We have them trapped whether they are in the castle, or out.”
“Did they get a message out before we trapped them?”
“You were here first, Hadde. You and Calen, Bera and Fend, and the other firebrands. Did you see anyone get away? Or were you too busy taking terrible risks under the wall?” He looked down at her from under a furrowed brow.
Hadde glared at him. “I had to try! Maret nearly broke free. Enna was right there. This all would have ended if I had succeeded.” Hadde reached out as if to touch them. “My arrow came so close.”
“There’s bold and then there’s stupid.”
“Stupid!”
His face flushed. “I only have one daughter! Right now both you and Enna are alive. But if you get yourself killed I won’t have a daughter and Enna won’t have a mother.”
“We don’t have Enna! She’s there!” Hadde pointed at the castle.
“We will get her out,” Arno said,
quieter now. “Don’t be rash, Hadde. I don’t want you to die.”
Hadde paused a moment, staring at the keep. “I’ll be careful. I won’t get myself killed.” But in her mind she thought of the great cat she and Calen had seen on the plains. That’s what a true mother is—a fierce protector of her young.
If only Hadde had been home instead of taking one last ride on the plains, maybe none of this ever would have happened. Maybe she could have stopped all this. But she said none of this to her father. Instead, she said, “Patience rewards the hunter.”
Arno smiled. “It does. And I’m sorry for calling you stupid. I meant to say idiotic.”
“Thank you, Father. I’ll remember that.”
They rode into the small town. It had clearly not recovered from the Wasting. More than half the homes and shops had collapsed roofs that told of years of neglect. The half-timber walls all needed plaster, even those that appeared still occupied.
“Where are the townspeople?” Hadde asked.
“They fled. Some into the keep and others into the countryside.”
“They’ll bring help.”
Arno nodded. “We have to assume it. But if they got a messenger off he’ll bring news faster. We need this to end without too much delay. Come this way.”
Arno led them down the main street toward the keep. The village’s wrecked palisade had only ever protected three sides of the town. The fourth was open to the keep. Two short stone towers sat at the edge of the moat, forcing any would-be invader who wished to bypass the palisade to have to enter the water. There they would be under the crossfire of the towers and the keep’s walls.
Landomeri archers took cover behind houses and a few makeshift barricades. All kept horses nearby. They weren’t about to stand and fight if the Saladorans broke out from the keep.
“I dreamt of my own death last night,” Hadde said, not knowing where the thought had sprung from.
“We all die someday,” Arno replied.
Hadde stared at him. “That’s your reply? We all die?”
Arno sighed. “Tell me your dream,” he intoned, “and I shall determine your future.” He waved his hand dramatically through the air as he spoke.
Hadde glared at him.
Arno laughed. “What? You think your dream meant something? You think your dreams can tell the future? Has it ever happened to you before?”
She kept riding.
“Go ahead. Tell me,” Arno said.
“I dreamt of the time the varcolac killed me with his javelin.”
“You weren’t dead. You know how I know? Because you are here.”
“I was dead and Akinos saved me.” She remembered the ancient man sitting beside her, the Orb of Creation in his hand. She longed to feel its touch again. She couldn’t help but feel somewhat sad at his death. He had saved Enna, unborn in Hadde’s womb. Akinos, a name that had come to mean evil, had never intended evil.
“That’s not exactly telling your future. You dreamt of your past.”
“It was a different place.”
Arno shook his head. “There are no varcolac here. And what would you do if there were? Run back to Landomere and hide? Would you abandon Enna?”
“No.”
“Then stop moping about what was, or what might be, and get your mind in the present. This is what matters. The here and the now.”
Calen jogged up to them as they approached the nearest houses to the keep. “How are you feeling, Hadde?”
“Well enough.” She paused. “You did it, Calen. You found my father and the others.”
He shrugged. “The Riverbend villagers were not about to help us. Some wanted to, but most were against it.”
“Dyna betrayed me and tried to turn me over to Grax,” Hadde said. “She isn’t really Landomeri. I don’t know that any of them are.”
“No, some of them are. They have come now to help us. Sarre and a few others follow the Way of the Forest. The rest have become Saladoran.”
“They lost their way, but we’re here to talk with the Saladorans, the real Saladorans in the castle.” Arno said. “We’re supposed to wave a white flag to get them to speak with us. Can you find one for us?”
“I’ll see if I can make something from what I find,” Calen said. As he turned to leave, a Landomeri huntress joined them. Calen gave her a nod and ran off.
“Hello, Joymarre,” Arno said. “This is my daughter, Hadde.”
Gray streaks ran through Joymarre’s black hair. Hadde thought she must be her mother’s age, or a little younger. She was as tall as any Landomeri woman Hadde had ever met. She wore no armor, just hunter’s garb, and carried a beautiful recurved bow.
Arno turned to Hadde. “Joymarre brought fifty hunters from Belavil. She’s done more than I have to make this all work.”
Hadde dismounted and clasped wrists with the huntress. “Thank you for coming. It means everything that so many Landomeri have come to help.”
“I’m sorry we didn’t arrive sooner.” Joymarre said. “The forest dies. The everbloom lies wilted and dead. We must save Orlos.”
“We’re going to speak with the Saladorans,” Arno said as he dismounted. “There are supposed to be three of us. Calen will be my—what do they call it—squire. Would you come as well, Joymarre?”
“What? I will go with you, Father,” Hadde said. “This is my task. I should be there.”
“They know you, Hadde. It isn’t safe.”
“I’ll wear a disguise.”
“No.” Arno’s brows furrowed. “No more stupid risks.”
“I’ll go,” Joymarre said. “I know something of Saladoran ways.”
Hadde glared at her father. “And I’ll just watch?”
“Don’t be a child, Hadde. Go out and tell our hunters to stop their shooting. We need a truce.”
“You’ve already done so much,” Joymarre said. “You slew Akinos and brought Orlos back with you. Let us take up some of the task.”
“But I didn’t keep him safe,” Hadde said. “And the Great Sprit dies without him.”
Joymarre nodded in understanding. “It wasn’t your task alone. That was for all Landomeri. We will help you bring him home again. We cannot have the Wasting again.”
“All true,” Arno said. “But more than all that, I want my granddaughter back. I want Maret and Orlos returned to their home. And that won’t happen with us standing here talking. Let’s trade Tomar to them and go home.”
“And if they refuse?” Hadde asked.
“Then we fight.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
Nidon swirled the wine in his glass. He hadn’t slept a moment and now, despite the looming thunderheads, the pitch black of night was losing its grip on the sky. By all rights I should have collapsed last night. Gods, what a day.
A year and a half of death and all I dreamed of was to leave this life behind and search for a woman who has no idea that I love her.
“I am such a fool.” He finished off the glass and put it down on the polished wooden table. A fine beeswax candle sat guttering there, casting flickering light across the room.
Now I am Champion to a young king who needs me more than the old one ever did. I will never find Hadde.
He stood and strode to the chamber’s single window, the smooth floor cool against his bare feet. It was not a large room, but it was well furnished. It was also the last private room on the hall before reaching King Handrin’s apartments. As status went, one couldn’t get much higher.
A humid breeze fluttered the heavy curtains. Night had done little to soften the oppressive heat. Never had he seen such a summer. Fall cannot come soon enough.
He yawned and stifled it with the back of his fist. It was no time to get tired. There would be both a funeral and a coronation today. Soon the keep would rouse itself and the preparations would begin. On top of the light linen shirt he now wore he would add an arming coat, aketon, and coat-of-plates. The thought gave him no joy.
Lightning flashed, followed i
mmediately by the rumble of thunder. A sudden gust of wind struck the keep’s walls, sending the curtains flying back. The room plunged into darkness. Behind Nidon, something crashed to the floor. He whirled, reaching to his waist for a sword that wasn’t there. Distant lightning flashed, and Nidon spied the sword, which had been propped against the table, lying on the floor. He took a deep breath. Not every noise is a fight waiting to happen.
He felt his way to the table, picked up his sheathed sword, and placed it on the table. He felt foolish keeping it at hand, but he was sleeping in the den of the enemy. He couldn’t think of the queen in any other way.
Nidon frowned at his unlit candle. He’d have to light it in the hall, but that would mean passing through Rayne’s room in the antechamber. He didn’t want to wake the boy, but—
There was a quick rap on the door. It opened and Rayne stuck his head through. Candlelight illuminated his face. “Is everything in order, Sir Nidon? I heard something.”
“The wind blew my sword over. I hope it didn’t wake you.”
“No, Sir Nidon, the thunder had already done that.”
The boy glanced around the room. “Are you up already, Sir Nidon?”
Nidon gave a grunt. “I never slept. Be a good lad and fetch some willow tea and bread from the kitchens. I’m hungry and have a hard head.”
Rayne yawned. “Right away, Sir Nidon.” He paused. “Would you like a candle?”
“Light the one on the table and then get that tea for me.”
“Yes, Sir Nidon,” he said as he retreated from the room.
A few fat raindrops hit the sill, but it looked as if there would be no more. He wondered about his men down by the river. Had they received enough notice to quit their camp and move into the city proper? He supposed some had. It would have been nice if they had come and paid their respects. Their first night of freedom. I’m sure they went on the hunt for drink and women. He, at least, would make time to visit them today. The queen had not treated them justly.
I should see about getting them paid. And I should get the best into royal service. It would be good to have allies.