Mordon stretched and kicked Simper’s bunk, “Wake up, old friend, the cock has crowed and Raeah surely awaits the pleasure of our company.”
Simper snorted and blinked his eyes. Dawn was creeping into the valley. He had not gotten nearly enough sleep these past few days. The tunnels had provided him the safety to sleep if he needed. The thought of Drake, or whatever his name really was, came to him, causing a shiver to run down his back. A little less sleep was worth having the princess and Mordon for companions. “The cock may have crowed, boyo, but the chickens haven’t left their roost yet.”
Mordon laughed, slapping the older man on his back, “Today is going to be interesting, Simp. We get to see Raeah’s eyes—the one she has, and the one you gave her. How do you suppose she’s going to react to the mother-of-pearl button?”
Simper swung his legs and feet over the edge of the bunk, “The button will either be there, or it won’t.”
Both men exited the shack and shivered in the early autumn air. They found convenient locations away from the building and relieved themselves on the grass. They turned to collect their things when both spotted two men standing, watching them from the cliff above the glade.
Mordon swore in a voice so low he doubted Simper could hear. “Simp . . . how about retrieving our weapons from inside while I keep our friends company.”
“Sure . . . sure . . . be right back.”
Mordon didn’t take his eyes from the two men, but could still see Simper ducking into the shack. Both men wore garments made from leather. Whoever made the clothing must have crushed green leaves and died the leather before stitching the parts together. They would have blended into a background of foliage and not be seen. Both men looked solidly built, and used to the outdoors. They were clean-shaven. The word robust came to the back of Mordon’s thoughts as he looked up at the men. He raised a hand in greeting, “Hail friends . . . come down and discuss the coming sunlight with us.” The man on the right grunted a short laugh.
“You wish to talk of the sunshine? Who are you, and why do you tread upon the good soil of our mountains?”
Mordon knew Raeah was about, and probably already watching these men. If she had not already killed them, it must mean she wore the patch and waited with as much curiosity as he felt. “The two of us have come from Widley. We survived the sack. There is nothing left in Widley but crumbled buildings, and an empty castle filled with bones.” The man quickly asked another question.
“How do we know it wasn’t you doing the killing in Widley?”
Mordon reached out and took the sheathed Wilson blade form the returning Simper, fastening it to his belting. “My name is Sir Mordon of Widley.” It felt odd hearing of his new station coming from his own mouth. “This fine gentleman here is Captain Simper of the castle guard. With the help of the princess, we did leave bones behind us.” The first man immediately asked another question.
“What say you, man? The princess of Duratia is alive? We heard she had been taken by the God forsaken man who led the destroyers.”
Mordon and Simper continued listening when the second man spoke in a deep baritone.
“You lie . . . no woman survived that bastard’s onslaught. They were all either raped and murdered, or taken for their pleasure. There isn’t a woman left on the island that isn’t dead or wishing she was.”
The two men in the glade saw Raeah step up behind the two on the bluff; still several feet from their backs. When she spoke, the men nearly fell over the edge. She looked very much a princess in her shining armor and cape. Morning light made her appear regal in the extreme. The patch covering her left eye and part of her face hardly deterred from her self-assured bearing.
She stepped closer to the two men. Standing proudly in front of them. “I am Princess Raeah. My father and family were murdered, as well as my friends. I escaped from the man you deem a bastard, and for all I know he may be just that. These men below are as they say. They accompany me on an important quest. Unless we determine you are friends, and quickly, this valley may be the last thing you see in your lives.” Without questioning her authority, both men kneeled and bowed.
Raeah motioned for Mordon and Simper to come up to where she stood. She watched them duck into the shack, and come away with their packs. Cutter ran along beside Mordon. When she saw Mordon stop and look up at her, she pointed to the left, “There is a trail only feet from the glade.” Neither man on the bluff moved. “Please rise,” she watched the two well-proportioned men stand. It was a good feeling neither moved to draw one of their weapons: each carried swords, a long bow and quiver, a sheathed knife, and a length of braded leather rope draped over one shoulder or the other. They were certainly equipped to do damage.
Both men stood, glancing at her with mild embarrassment. They were clearly not used to being in the presence of royalty. They had pulled their wide brimmed leather hats from their heads, and were crushing them unmercifully in their nervous hands.
Mordon arrived with Cutter and Simper, a little out-of-breath, to stand with Raeah. The dog seemed unconcerned, and walked without menace to sniff at their legs. Cutter’s presence did not seem to bother either of the two men.
Raeah asked, “Who are you, and how have you escaped Poltarc?” Both men glanced at the other, and spoke as one.
“Poltarc?”
Raeah continued, “His name is Poltarc. The bastard you mentioned. The man I escaped from three weeks ago. I ask again, what are your names?” The man who first had spoken from the bluff spoke first again.
“My name is Charon . . . this man is Robert, we belong to the border guard of Haverid.”
Without waiting to be asked again, Charon kept speaking as if he needed to explain the fact of their living while so many had died.
“When the Picts swept into Haverid, it was a complete surprise. Their numbers and strength was far beyond their normal raiding bands. It was as if all the Picts in the world had stopped their bickering and fighting among the separate bands, and joined together. The border guards were swept aside. We tried to warn Glouster and the king, but they out distanced us in the first hours. Each time we had to stop to rest, they gained by not stopping until they ringed the city. Even then, we tried to make our way through their lines to the inner city. We lost many good men in our attempts.”
All eyes shifted to Robert as he took over the telling of their story.
“The Picts were led by a giant. The whole army seemed to flow with his thought. A large contingent of Picts plundered and killed innocent people, even children playing in the streets, and destroyed their homes. Meanwhile, their leader led the vanguard of the army to the castle. He was so enormous he easily lifted four of his men at a time to the battlements before enough castle guards could stop him. The gates were opened and the castle . . . .”
The man bowed his head in remembrance. Charon picked up the story.
“They destroyed the lucky ones, and used those they wished to save. I . . . I am sorry princess . . . they showed no mercy to the women. The border guard used to be thousands strong, now there are less than 200.”
Mordon spoke, feeling a glimmer of hope, “If we are successful in our quest, you should take your men to Glouster. In a month, things may have changed within the city. If all seems unchanged, my best advice to you is dig yourselves into this mountain fastness, and prepare for what will come next. If we are successful, we would be happy to receive you in Widley, and would treat you as lost comrades. Any number of you would be accepted with open arms.”
Raeah agreed with Mordon’s thinking, but added, “Is there a leader among your numbers who would serve as Haverid’s provost martial, someone who is honest and can provide justice when needed? Haverid will need a new king.” It was Charon who answered Raeah.
Mc Leivry is such a man. He now leads what guards are left. But he will not take kindly to the thought of his becoming a king. Aron is a man of
the forest, as are the others. We did not serve the king and the people of Glouster well by failing to reach them before the Picts.”
Raeah smiled openly at the men dressed in leathers. “Charon . . . Robert . . . as Queen of Duratia, I command you return to Aron Mc Leivry, and tell him I will expect to visit him in his castle this coming spring. If he is man enough to lead the likes of you two, he will lead the kingdom of Haverid from under Poltarc’s grasp. Go I ask, tell him I’ll be at his doorstep in the early months of the New Year.” Both men bowed to her and turned, running quickly back into the forest.
Mordon followed the movements of the two men. The sunlight caught glimpses of their moving bodies running through the trees. “What have you done, Raeah? If we fail, you might have just sentenced them to death as well.”
“We aren’t going to fail, Sir Mordon. We have a week to finish my story and devise a plan. Those men may never go to Glouster, but if they do, they are going to see an empty city needing people. People will need to be governed and protected. What better men to have in Haverid and Glouster then those who failed it? They will be uncanny in their approach, and work that much harder to bring back what they lost.”
Mordon smiled at Raeah, “You will make a wise and daunting queen.”
Raeah moved to turn back toward the trail and stopped. She turned back to Mordon, and looked up at his face. What she saw made her wish Simper was someplace else other than with them. She watched him inspecting her patch, and then stare in concentration at her good eye. The love he tried so hard to hold in check, and yet emitted, was almost a tangible force. She wanted to hold him tight in her arms. An infinitesimal segment of guilt crossed her mind. “You are not repulsed by my face then, Sir Mordon?”
He could not remember ever being this close to the princess in Widley. Never had he stood so close to see the color of her eyes. She stood, looking up at him with such awkward timidity, he wanted desperately not to say the wrong thing. After his fear of last night, he wished to let her know he would still follow. Two could play this game she played. “Your eye is beautiful, my princess. Now that I can see most of your face, I may tell you I have never seen anything quite so stunning.” She blushed beneath his comment. She was either the consummate actress, or parts of her were still human. “The mother-of-peril eye Simper presented you complements the subtle blue of your own.” Mordon realized he had lost himself in her face, and tried tempering his bold remarks, “We’ll need to determine if one eye is a determent for your skills.”
Simper was smiling to himself, seeing these two trying to keep their hands off each other. Without feeling too pleased with his patch success, “I knew those buttons would come in handy. And no, I am not going to leave the two of you up here to waste away a perfectly good day. We have distance to cover, and skills to practice. I think Wicliff would have said something like, ‘Get off your backsides, boyos, and fill the day with gusto.”
Mordon laughed, for he could remember Wicliff waking the men in the barracks with those words many times. “You’re right, Simp, the horses await our backsides. I will attempt to mentally prepare myself for a lesson in swordsmanship from this lady of royalty.” His silly comment made Raeah smirk.
They left the bluff and descended to the level of the hovel. Mordon picked up a piece of the mines detritus as he passed the tailings pile; there was a great deal of rust on its surface. Raeah commented to him.
“It is likely the men were digging out the iron ore. How they intended getting the ore out to the roadway, I can only guess.”
Simper was eager to leave this valley, though he wasn’t quite sure why. “Pack animals, I suppose. They must have intended using donkeys or mules to get it down to the wagons at the road. Even a miner would not have wanted to despoil the natural church in the groove.”
No further conversation took place until Mordon led the group out through the leafy barrier and onto the roadway. Even then, their comments were short and conveyed none of them wished to tarry. Mordon found he rode at the princess’s side without the patch, trying to surreptitiously study her face. She was beautiful. Over two years in the past he had only seen her across the bailey, no closer. The palace guards had formed a loose barrier to even those serving in the king’s garrison. Now . . . here she was riding next to him. This all seemed nearly a dream. If she ever noticed his fleeting scrutiny she kept the knowledge to herself. The trio rode from early morning until the sun was overhead. Their backs were warmed by its presence. Raeah led the group from the roadway into a dense cluster of majestic firs. The trees were so tightly packed, the horses continually had to step over exposed roots.
Raeah remembered this place with a mixture of fondness and bitterness. She had stopped here several times to bathe in the stream, and relieve the burden of the killing she had done for Poltarc. Maybe coming here with Mordon and Simper would help alleviate the cause of her prior visits. Where she intended taking them wasn’t far ahead. Raeah wondered how Mordon would perceive this hideaway.
Within another minute, Raeah could hear the waterfalls; a sound hidden from the roadway. Another few steps allowed her to see the first sightings of the green grass of the glade. When they rode the horses out into the wide glade, she could hear Mordon take in a quick breath. “This is a safe place for us to rest the mounts and refresh ourselves.”
Both men sat frozen in their saddles. The sunshine glinted from the spray of the slender but lengthy waterfall, creating a rainbow halfway up its height. Above the glade, the water sprang from the solid wall of a cliff and broke apart until it seemed only mist wet the rocks at its base. Enough water was coming from the cliff face above it created a stream a few feet across. The stream ran off across the far edge of the emerald colored glade, and disappeared into the trees.
Mordon was struck numb by the natural beauty of this place. Seeing what was beyond Widley made him sick with recrimination. How had he been so stupid to think Widley was the only answer to what had been done to them? He heard Simper say something, but had no idea what he said.
Simper looked around the glade and voiced to no one, “Half of your father’s army could have rested here and probably never wanted to leave.”
Raeah dismounted, and let her horse find its way to water and grass. She initially felt the same dirtiness of body as when she had visited the glade before, but now the men’s presence brought a new feeling along with them. She looked back at Mordon and away: the man was mesmerized by the beauty around him. She listened to Simper, but did not respond. Without preamble, she took the cape from her shoulders and strode to the falls. She walked directly under the chill water and stood, letting the water wash the dust from her armor and hair. The armor was a part of her skin, and let not a drop beneath its surface. The armored boots that had grown on her feet were just as waterproof. The leather patch could dry on a branch while she was the wraith.
She felt a cleanliness of mind she had not experienced for years. She could not totally remove what she had done for Poltarc entirely from her mind, but found she could push it further into a corner than she believed possible.
How she wished the burden of her story was already told. The men thought they would be incapable of harming her, but she believed differently. Mordon would be quickest to react. She already knew his speed was equal to hers, if she could just refrain for an instant and not react to his coming blade . . . . Mordon was the answer to her wish of ending what Poltarc had created in her.
Mordon’s thoughts of her doing good were noble of him, but naive. She had fallen far past any semblance of what she had been. If they somehow managed to kill Poltarc, she would still be what the man had created; a breathing slayer of life.
Beneath the falling water, she wondered if Poltarc’s death could possibly remove the stain of what she was. This water washed her body, perhaps Poltarc’s death would in some way cleanse her soul. Someone said something she totally missed. When she opened her eyes, the two men were st
anding there, smiling at her. Their smiles held none of the innuendo of Poltarc’s men. She smiled back in return, “Come . . . join me and refresh your bodies.”
Her smile widened when she watched them in embarrassment start to remove their clothing. She watched Simper shrug, not hesitating and step toward the water completely nude. The man howled from surprise at the water’s chill. Raeah took pity on Mordon and called to him, “Whatever premise is holding you back, I have seen it all more times than I have wished . . . come and enjoy the water.”
Mordon pulled off everything but his pants. It just didn’t seem right removing his pants in front of Raeah. He moved across the wet rocks with caution, coming to a stop under the chilling water. “My God this cold, how can the two of you stand it?” They both laughed at him. Mordon scrubbed everything he could, and jumped from under the falling water only to receive additional jibs.
It was cold to Simper as well, but he loved the feel of the cascading spray. “What’s the matter big fellow, a little cold water can’t hurt you.”
Mordon pointed at Simper’s crotch, “It looks as if it has maimed you for life.”
Raeah couldn’t help but look in the direction Mordon pointed. Simper had shrunk to near nonexistence in the cold water of the stream. She covered her mouth, and then started laughing along with Mordon. She bound from the spray next to Simper as he left the base of the falls.
They ran to the sunshine, and lay down on the warm grass. Their bodies were spread out like rays of the sun, with heads close together and their feet pointed away. They laughed until they could laugh no more. Raeah got the hiccups from laughing so hard, and it started all over.
Raeah cried out, “Stop . . . stop . . . my side hurts so badly.”
Mordon of Widley Page 27