by Dave Higgins
Soggy jute bound her blade, forcing her to put her full weight behind each cut. The knife shifted in her grip as the cold turned her aching fingers numb.
But, one by one, the strands snapped apart. She tumbled back as the last one lashed up past her face.
When she picked herself up, the raft was drifting with the current. The townspeople jogged along both banks; however, unless the raft drifted closer, they couldn’t do anything. And they couldn’t keep up with it forever.
Whatever happened, Peony needed her only ally. She tucked the knife into her belt and went back inside.
Rauger slumped against a wall in the living room, his fingers probing an egg-shaped bump on his head. “Orped is dead?”
She nodded. “We’re floating downriver, away from the town. We’re safe for now.”
He said nothing, his face set in a terrible frown. She didn’t dare ask what the problem was. Instead, she went back out to watch the people running down the banks after them.
Chapter 8
The Search
Edmond scribbled notes as Brother Pachi, the foremost expert on theoretical song, expounded on the difference between a breve of silence and two semi-breves of silence next to each other. Edmond’s fingers ached, and the point of his quill had become the blunt several pages ago, but he was determined not to leave a breath unrecorded. For years, he’d sought a place at the table; and for years he’d been denied. Finally, he’d published too much, become too well known, so they had to invite him.
His donation to the order had helped, too.
Brother Pachi’s demonstration of noiselessness fell silent. Edmond realised all eyes were on him. He looked around the questioning faces and spotted the reason for their confusion. His messenger, Trimbole, stood in the doorway, a scroll in his hand.
Edmond waved Trimbole over, taking the message from him. The scroll bore the seal of Duke Hapbert, a strange thing in itself. The duke wasn’t in the habit of sending pleasantries, so it had to be important. Perhaps something that would affect Daffodil’s talks with King Stefan of West Nontems.
Edmond unravelled it.
To His Majesty King Edmond of Green Moss, Duke of Blackcrest, Protector of the Marches, Bearer of the Seal Indomitable, greetings.
Your Majesty The King’s daughter, Her Royal Highness Princess Peony, has been kidnapped. We therefore humbly suggest that Your Majesty returns at Your Majesty’s earliest convenience.
We believe Her Royal Highness still lives, but anticipate a demand of ransom soon.
We remain Your Majesty’s humble servant.
Yours in faith,
Duke Hapbert.
Edmond scanned the note a second time, certain he must have misread it. Halfway through the third attempt, he let it slip from his fingers. There was no misinterpretation. Peony had been taken. His daughter was in the hands of who knew whom. “I’m sorry, I have to go. An urgent matter has come up.”
Rising, he gathered his things and stuffed them into his pouch.
Mutters rose around the table along with a few frowns of disapproval. He didn’t care though. Frowns wouldn’t slow his journey to Daffodil, or stop her smashing the nearest object against the next nearest.
Outside the academy, he roused the few guards with him to action. Most of the guards were with his wife, leaving the castle and their daughter undefended. A fact he knew wouldn’t be lost on her. She’d blame herself, then she’d blame King Stefan. Edmond needed to be there to intercede before she found out. Otherwise rescuing Peony would be delayed a few days by having to defeat West Nontems. “Did Hapbert send a second messenger to Queen Daffodil?”
“No, Your Majesty.” Trimbole braced his shoulders. “I cautioned him against it. I thought you might want to hear first.”
“Good man.” Edmond clapped the messenger on the shoulder. “Let’s away. The longer we delay, the angrier my wife will be when she finds out.”
He mounted his horse and spurred it from the yard before the other men finished saddling theirs. He barely noticed when, at some point, they caught up.
His thoughts kept turning to his daughter. Despite all the tutors and hours he’d spent encouraging her, she never took to scholarly pursuits. She’d always been her mother’s child, a wild, untameable adventurer.
He’d resented his parents for the stats they gave him; but somehow, he’d done the same to his own child. From the moment a three-year-old Peony trapped her nurse in a net, he’d realised she had the soul of a fighter. The next fifteen years confirmed it: her being dragged down from the battlements with a pot on her head, trying to borrow weapons from the guards, or even sneaking out of the castle to fight wights.
But, despite it all, he kept pushing her to be what he wanted her to be: a born scholar. The academies wouldn’t discriminate against her like they did with him. They wouldn’t say she obtained her skills through questing rather than birth.
His mount laboured under him, flecks of foam coating its heaving flanks. With effort, he slowed to a canter. Killing his horse wouldn’t get him there.
After half a day of galloping and cantering, galloping and cantering, he crested the last hill in Green Moss. A single table sat in the centre of the valley beyond, lines of Green Moss and West Nontems tents each a bowshot and a pace away from it. At the table, Daffodil sat facing King Stefan, the tension in her shoulders clear even from a distance.
A wave of staring eyes and muttering spread before Edmond as he rode through the Green Moss camp, avoiding guy ropes and forcing his horse to leap cooking fires.
Daffodil and Stefan rose as Edmond galloped toward the table. Yanking back on the reins and swinging his leg over, he leapt down.
“What is this?” King Stefan dropped his hand to his sword. “King Edmond, you weren’t supposed to be here!”
Daffodil took a half-step back, her frown of irritation shifting into a warrior’s stare.
“My apologies.” Edmond brushed a hand over his crumpled robe, spreading the muddy spatters across the cloth. “There’s been an emergency. I need to speak with my wife.”
Stefan shrugged, easing back a pace. “Well, she’s here.”
Edmond threw the reins of his horse toward a page and gestured for Daffodil to follow him back to her tent. Dismissing her attendants, he closed the flap. “Peony has been kidnapped.”
“What?” Her jaw jutted and her hands fisted. “How dare they? Over a border dispute?”
“I don’t think it was King Stefan. He knows how we’d react. He doesn’t want a war.”
She fingered the hilt of the axe at her belt, but nodded. “Then who?”
“I don’t know.” He handed her Duke Hapbert’s note.
She skimmed it, then threw it aside. “How do we know this isn’t a ruse by Hapbert?”
“That doesn’t seem likely. He’s one of our closest allies. He’s gained more under you than anyone else. Stop rushing to conclusions. Let’s get back to the castle and find out some facts.”
“Don’t tell me not to think. You’re not the only one with a brain in your head!”
“I never said I was! I just—” Edmond gulped a breath. They didn’t have time for another one of her arguments. Stepping closer to her, he reached out to hug her.
“What are you doing?”
“This is outside your control. Our daughter is missing and you want someone to destroy.”
She shoved him back hard, sending him into a small table. Arms waving, he kept his feet. However, the decanter set tumbled, spreading wine and broken glass across the floor.
“Don’t do that.” She thrust a finger toward his face. “You’ve had hours; I’ve had minutes. Don’t do what you always do. Don’t tell me what to think.”
“Who ever could?” He drew himself up. “You’re the great leader.”
Her eyes flashed pure venom. “I’m leading because you never could. If I didn’t run the kingdom, it would fall apart.”
He clamped his mouth shut. Peony was in trouble and Daffodil had turned
everything into an argument again. “I’m going back to the castle to find our daughter. You go slaughter whoever you want to blame for this.”
Her hand shot out. Her fingers gripped him like steel. For a moment he thought she’d rip his arm off. Then she took a breath.
“No.” She let the air trickle from her nostrils. “You’re right this time. We need to find the culprits so I can slaughter them. But we won’t find them at the castle; not without help. It’s been a day or more, and they’ll have covered their tracks.”
“Who?”
“Grew. If there’s anyone who can track them, it’ll be him.”
Edmond smiled. “He’ll drive you to distraction.”
“Maybe another idiot will balance things out.” The curve of Daffodil’s lip suggested it was —mostly—a joke. “His tower’s on the way.”
She led the way back to the negotiating table and nodded at King Stefan. “My apologies, Your Majesty. Our daughter’s been kidnapped. We have to leave.”
“Your daughter’s been kidnapped?” Stefan swallowed hard, eyes widening. His arms rose then dropped as if he weren’t sure whether to embrace Daffodil. His obvious shock eliminated Edmond’s last doubt he’d been involved. “Of course, Your Majesties. We’ll adjourn and continue this matter once she’s safe and sound.”
“Thank you.” Daffodil bowed her head to him again, then turned to a nearby page. “Fetch fresh mounts, then strike the camp after we leave. We’re going back to Blackcrest.”
Moments later, grooms jogged over with horses, seating bits and tightening cinches as they came. Some took several attempts to buckle straps they’d fitted hundreds of times, and all looked pale.
Edmond realised the news of Peony’s kidnapping had spread through the camp. Soon, the whole continent would be buzzing with the news. If the kingdom were to remain safe, they needed to get their daughter back fast. Otherwise, a dozen opportunists would try to take advantage.
He mounted and followed Daffodil from the camp, each spurring their horse into a gallop as soon as they passed the last guy rope. Winding tracks and roads carried them across their kingdom. Villages streamed past. Coaching inns filled with wide-eyed patrons; stares that only grew as Daffodil met the most exorbitant prices for fresh mounts without hesitation.
After a day of riding, they reached Grew’s tower. Edmond couldn’t help but be impressed all over again. The tower was formed of a single piece of stone, raised from the ground by Grew when he first arrived. Narrow channels spiralled and crossed the height of the walls, water flowing upward through them. To the uninitiated, the glistening spire was awe-inspiring. To a magician, it was almost beyond belief. As a dancer, fire magic came the easiest to Grew. It took dancers years to master earth, and decades to manage air. Grew had reached water, the most difficult of all. By the time that happened, he’d grown beyond what the Order of the Feet could teach him. He left to pursue his own studies, in a tower where he could concentrate.
However he managed it, the magic kept the tower the same as when Edmond last visited. With a start he realised it had been ten years. Ten years since Grew left the academy in Saltback to pursue his private study.
The main doors opened as they approached and Grew stepped out, staff resting over one shoulder. Instead of the robes of a master mage, he wore leather armour, and a pack on his back. “I thought you might come, so I got ready.”
A servant emerged from a nearby shed, leading three saddled horses.
“You’re still creepy, then.” Daffodil dismounted. “Can you read minds?”
“Not really,” Grew said. “Hapbert sent word. He had the same thought you did. We’ll need my skills to find the kidnappers.”
Edmond half-fell from his horse, legs aching so badly that the pain formed a queue. Hobbling to Grew, he pulled him into a hug. “It’s good to see you.”
“I guess it is.” Daffodil followed Edmond’s hug with one of her own.
“I wish it was under better circumstances,” Grew said. “You’ve both got old. Especially you, Edmond.”
Edmond smiled. Grey had appeared at his temples in recent months and some of his laughter lines had become just lines. He thought it made him look scholarly, but it bothered Daffodil for some reason; one more thing for her to argue about.
Grew, meanwhile, seemed in remarkable shape. No longer an awkward, skinny boy, he’d grown into a thin, precise man. His brown hair was still wild, but his eyes held a confidence that hadn’t been there before. “We’ll track her down. There’s nowhere they can hide her from me.”
“What are we waiting for?” Daffodil leapt onto a fresh horse. “Let’s go find my daughter.”
Grew’s tower was only a short ride from Blackcrest. Edmond had always meant to visit more often; but sending his theories to the academies until they took notice had taken so much time; and once they did acknowledge him, he’d had follow-up theses to write and letters to answer.
Now wasn’t the time to catch up though. Even if he hadn’t had to concentrate to keep up, the wind would have snatched his words. His aches stopped queueing and became a mob, but they couldn’t slow; they couldn’t even afford to rest when they reached the castle. Not if they wanted to catch Peony’s kidnappers.
People filled the courtyard when Edmond arrived, rushing about under the direction of Hendrix, the chamberlain. Edmond, Daffodil, and Grew dismounted from their tired horses and stood stretching for a moment.
Duke Hapbert emerged from the main hall. “Your Majesties. Your Eminence.”
Edmond smiled at Grew’s title. It always seemed a little strange to him that Grew achieved such lofty levels within the academy. He caught Grew smiling back and realised perhaps he thought the same of Edmond and Daffodil.
“Your Grace,” Daffodil said. “What happened?”
“Kidnappers came in the night. From where, I don’t know. Your daughter retired early to bed while I’m afraid the rest of us continued to drink.”
“You weren’t to know.” The set of her brow suggested she didn’t want to waste time on his apology rather than she forgave him. “Continue.”
“Most went to their beds as the night went on, leaving a few of us drinking. The Lady Stephanie remained to ensure I received all hospitality. I offered to escort her to her door.”
“And then?” Daffodil asked.
“When we were walking back to her room, we heard Princess Peony scream. Stephanie ran at once and I followed. We found five men carrying her off. One of them attacked us, and I killed him. I might have been drunk, but I wasn’t drunk enough to lose to that ruffian.”
“You have the body?” Edmond asked. “Maybe there’s something about it that gives us some clues.”
Hapbert shrugged and nodded. “You’re welcome to look, but I’ve examined it thoroughly. Other than his sword and clothes, the man had nothing on him. No sign of where he came from.”
“What about Stephanie?” Daffodil asked. “Is she all right?”
“Shaken,” Hapbert said. “But fine. She’s in her room. If I hadn’t been there, I believe that man would have murdered her in cold blood.”
“Then it’s good you killed him instead,” Edmond said.
“We should eat and rest,” Daffodil said. “It’s getting dark. We’ll continue at first light.”
Edmond stared at Daffodil in surprise.
“We don’t know where she is,” Daffodil said. “Which means we might have to ride for days. If we’re going to have to stop sometime; we might as well start off rested.”
Hapbert swept a deep bow. “May I ride with you?”
“I have a more important task for you,” Daffodil said. “Word of the kidnapping will spread. I need you to hold our kingdom together while we’re gone.”
“Of course. I’ll let you rest.” After bowing again, the duke strode back into the castle.
Edmond turned on Daffodil. “Leaving Hapbert in charge? What are you thinking? It’s suspicious he was here when it happened; this might be exactly what he wa
nted us to do.”
“What do you suggest? We make one of your scrolls regent? They’re always right, after all.”
“What if he tries something?”
“You can stay here, if you want, but I’m going to find my daughter,” she said, then stomped off into the castle.
“I have a radical plan.” Grew tapped his chin. “What if just the three of us went? We’d travel faster without guards, and it would mean they could stay here to keep an eye on Hapbert in case he is up to something.”
Edmond sputtered, then chuckled. It made sense. “We’ll tell Daffodil when she calms down. Want something to eat?”
“Sure,” Grew said. “It’ll give me a chance to hear about your latest study. You won’t believe what I’ve been finding on the practical side.”
Edmond couldn’t shake the feeling that waiting was wrong. Somewhere out there, his daughter was in trouble. He wouldn’t get any sleep that night, anyway; however, instead of using that time to find her, he was discussing theoretical magic.
Chapter 9
Floating
Despite a couple of nerve-wracking drifts where the river meandered, the raft held to the centre of the channel. After ten minutes, the townspeople fell behind. Peony worried some would give chase on horses, but that felt less likely by the moment. And from what she’d seen as the raft moved past, the town wasn’t prosperous; any horses were likely bred for working fields, not chasing rafts.
When she went back inside, Rauger was searching Orped and his men. After adding provisions and weapons to a pile in the centre of the room, he dragged Orped outside. Torn between helping and demanding he was given a decent burial, Peony did nothing as Rauger threw the body in the water, then returned and did the same with the other men.
“What are we going to do now?” she asked.
Rauger shot her a glare.