by David
“Intriguing, Loric,” Avalana gasped, truly amazed. “It had never occurred to me.” A sudden high-pitched laugh cracked the air, and along with it came her genuine expression of awe, as she remarked, “To think, you of a lord’s wisdom, led me to believe you were a simple farmer. To be so false with me--how could you live with that on your conscience?”
Loric was suddenly without an intellectual reply. Lies confused his mind and confounded his tongue. How he hated lies! The young traveler from Taeglin reined in his anger, to hide it from Avalana.
The princess seemed not to notice his struggle. She merely laughed at Loric’s silence, commenting, “In Regalsturn there is an old saying: Shinoa nes maszba dotenna maszbalonsz, dua teszba nes noa masz noatalensz nes do. ”
“What does it mean?” Loric asked eagerly.
“The simpler a man shows himself, the more intricate the thoughts of his mind,” she translated. “That reminds me, I still need to teach you Regalspeech.”
Opportunity had come upon Loric, its approach unseen, but its presence noted. “Avalana, I would gladly accept a lesson this evening, after I refresh a bit, of course. That is, if it is no trouble.”
“It is no trouble at all,” she replied, clearly pleased, but hesitantly, nevertheless. “Meet me in the Guest Garden at the top of the next hour.”
“Agreed,” Loric answered readily. “If you will kindly excuse me, I must make myself
presentable once more.”
“I must be going, anyway,” Avalana returned, smiling. Her lips sunk into a flat line as she said, “Father said something about dining with Lord Garrett.” She sighed.
Loric swallowed his opinion of said dinner. “I will see you when the timekeeper turns the glass,” he squeaked, as pleasantly as possible. “Until then, farewell....”
“Farewell,” said Avalana, and then she was gone.
Loric glanced down at his many plates to see that his food was also gone.
****
There had been a short but pleasant visit from Marblin, who had spoken idly of his day
patrolling the streets of Moonriver, rendering his speculative thoughts concerning the deeper political meanings of rumors he had heard there. After the guardsman’s departure, Loric took a hot bath and donned fresh raiment to help him smell as good as he felt. The weather had warmed with the lengthening of days since his arrival at the castle, so he reckoned he and the princess had an hour and some sands for his lesson before sunset forced them to retire to their rooms for the evening. Loric took full advantage of the daylight allotted him with Avalana.
It was pleasant time of learning and good company. Loric wanted another hour with the princess, to work on proper pronunciation in Regalspeech, but the sun began sinking into wispy clouds on the horizon. Its golden light seeped through rustling leaves of Rianamora trees, coloring Avalana’s hair with an orange glow. Loric plucked a branch of flowers that was hanging down by her ear and deftly wove it into a blossomed crown. He had learned that trick as a child, while playing king’s consort with Belinda--a memory he pushed aside to keep his spirit light.
Upon Avalana’s brow, it was both as beautiful and as fitting as a circlet of gold encrusted with diamonds. She laughed with the joy of a girl child, but she possessed the alluring grace of the adult female she truly was. The two adjoined qualities held Loric enthralled by her mysterious magic--the magic of womanhood.
A sudden gust of wind snatched the crown of flowers from Avalana’s head, so Loric knelt to retrieve it, as did the princess. Their hands touched. They froze. A mystical moment did not hold them there. Rather, a feathered dart plunked into the Rianamora tree, just beyond where they were standing mere moments before. Its slight vibration caused their ears to buzz with alarm and stopped their hearts with terror.
Without thinking, Loric drew Avalana close to shield her. He scanned the castle walls, but deep shadows prevailed all along the near side of the stony facade. Loric saw a flicker of motion and started toward it, but the frail arms about him were stronger than he might have guessed they were. They held him fast, so he could not move away, at once reminding him that Avalana’s safety had to be his highest priority, even when his every instinct demanded that he track down her would-be killer.
The assassin was fleeing, and Loric would have to watch him go unchecked again. Loric looked to Avalana and asked, “Are you okay?”
Avalana was quaking like a hare, but she bore up bravely and nodded.
The clatter of armor and the thud of boots behind them caused Loric a start and drew a mild shriek from Avalana, before they came to realize Lord Aldric had come upon them. “Which way did the villain flee?” he demanded.
Loric pointed out the spot where he had last seen the departing assassin, relieved that he would be brought to justice at last. “Do you need assistance?” he called after Aldric.
Avalana pleaded, “Stay with me, Loric. I am dreadfully afraid.”
“See the princess back to her room,” Aldric commanded over her. He turned to add, “Make sure she does not come to harm. There are foul forces at work in this villainy, and I intend to see that they do not prevail.”
“Yes, my lord,” Loric shouted, but Aldric raced ahead and slipped out of sight, into dark places, after a dark henchman. To Avalana, the traveler from Taeglin said soothingly, “I am with you, fair Avalana, but we are not safe here. Come with me, please, and I will see you safe.”
“O-Okay,” she gasped weakly.
Loric took Avalana by her hand and tugged her along behind him, without a thought for the impropriety of his actions. He was too concerned with the threat to her well-being to think of their different social standing or even to notice how soft and nice her hand felt within his grasp.
Loric’s connection to the princess was vague, as his other senses heightened to potential harms.
His peripheral vision was broader, his range of hearing was longer and his nostrils were open to any stink of man.
Loric was careful to approach shaded corners with extra caution, and to make haste through well-lit areas, where the crossbowman might find the line-of-sight and range necessary to place a well-aimed bolt in Avalana’s heart--and his own, by extension. In moments of uncertainty, he paused to draw strength from the princess, who knew nothing of his doubts. She had become increasingly composed during the course of their flight through those darkened halls of Moonriver Castle, even as Loric’s confidence began to wane. Together, they made it safely to the guest hallway, where their respective chambers stood opposite one another.
“Do not leave me, Ami,” Avalana whispered desperately. “I am terribly frightened.”
Avalana was hiding her fear well, because Loric would not have known of it before she told him how she felt. He drew a sharp breath to gather his courage, and he reassured the princess, “I will make sure your room is safe, and I will guard your door while you sleep.”
“Oh thank you, Loric, my Ami,” she sighed. She threw her arms about him and pecked him on the cheek.
Loric wanted to return Avalana’s affection with all of his being, but he needed to keep his arms free. His sense of alarm had not passed. Another attempt on Avalana’s life could come at any moment. He gently brushed her off, hating the need to do so.
“Loric?” she inquired.
“Yes?”
“I-I feel terrible about something,” Avalana started.
“What is it?” he asked, only half listening to the princess.
“I have done you an injustice,” she confided.
Loric let the right side of his mouth lift naturally toward his cheek, “Not that I have noticed, fair Avalana, so consider it no more.”
“You do not understand,” the princess tried to explain. “I have kept things from you-”
“We all have our secrets, don’t we?” Loric interjected, unwilling to share his own for now.
“But this is neither the time nor the place to discuss them.”
Avalana nodded her reluctant agreement and
followed Loric as he entered her dark quarters.
After a short period of fumbling about, aided only by the dim light seeping in from the torch-lit hall, they found an oil lamp and struck it alight. A thorough search of the chamber exposed no signs of mischief within, so Loric excused himself to leave.
The princess held his hand tightly, keeping him from departing. When Loric turned to face Avalana, she took his other hand and captured his eyes in the undertow of her own deep blues.
“Thank you for everything, Loric,” she said. In a moment that passed too quickly for him to do anything but receive his reward, she pecked him on each cheek and displayed a shy smile.
Avalana started forward to kiss him full on his lips, but Loric felt too vulnerable to the threat of the assassin, too much sense of his duty to protect the princess to fall completely under her spell. He took her by her shoulders to stop her and murmured, “I should go.” Before he knew what he had done, Loric was pulling Avalana’s door shut behind him. He absently touched each spot where the lady had planted her kisses as he settled beside her door, and he felt the warmth of her affection run through his fingertips to his toes.
All that remained was for Loric to wait out the night. A sleepless night, Loric reminded himself. One misstep now could cost the princess her life.
Loric tried everything to keep awake. He stood. He paced. Soon, though, his legs grew tired, and he leaned on the lintel. Even then, it took several hours for his heavy lids to betray him. He dozed for what seemed like a fluttering instant.... and two shadowy forms surprised him. The first clamped an open palm firmly over his mouth before he could raise a warning shout to the princess. The second poked a dagger between his ribs, just deep enough to nudge him away from his post outside Avalana’s room. Those figures took him down a deserted hallway, where the torches had been snuffed, but not before he noticed blue hues of Regalsturnian uniforms.
Before Loric had a chance to react, a stunning right hand to his temple nearly brought him to his knees. That could have come from the second soldier, who asked in deeply accented tones,
“What have we here?”
“Who are you?” Loric mumbled through the pain in his buzzing brain. How many are there?
he thought. He was no longer sure of their numbers.
“We will ask the questions, nenchbettansz!” sneered the first man, whose voice carried the same accent. He added a punch to Loric’s stomach. The blow made Loric groan and slump to his knees. The man may have spat upon him and pushed him the rest of the way down. Loric was not sure how it happened, but he ended on his face, whereupon his assailants proceeded to beggar stomp him. He had only heard about guards putting boots to pushy beggars, but he knew his beating for what it was. After what seemed an eternity of twisting round, trying to fend off relentless feet, they finally ceased.
Someone lifted Loric’s head by its natural handle, but he could scarcely feel his hair tugging at his scalp. A blurry face came into view. A stinging slap helped bring his eyes into focus, and a guttural snarl issued forth from clenched teeth to warn, “Stay away from Princess Avalana! Do you hear?” Another open hand struck his cheek, halting his eyes from their rolling waver. “This is our kindly advice to you,” said the man. “If we are forced to report that you are pushing yourself onto the lady again, Lord Dandrakor will not be pleased.” The hand released Loric’s hair. Wicked laughter accompanied the feel of his face smacking against flagstones. “His Lordship of Gurn has a hand as heavy as stone compared to mine,” the spokesman promised.
Then two sets of boots clicked away down the hall.
Loric thought that last remark might have been a threat, but he had thought the first fist to strike him had been made of stone. Who is Dandrakor? Loric sought to understand. This Lord of Gurn clearly intends to keep me from Avalana, came his obvious answer. Why does this matter to him? Loric had no answer to that query. If I stay close to Avalana, I will be beaten again, he reasoned, but if I stay away from her, she will surely be killed. Avalana! Loric thought in a panic.
How long has she gone unguarded?
“Too long,” Loric spat aloud in his agony. Groaning again, he repeated miserably, “Too long.”
Loric crawled back to the hall that opened onto his room, where he willed himself back to his feet. He moved to Avalana’s door and quietly pushed it inward for a look. All was calm, so Loric withdrew and staggered to his own chamber. He stumbled to his knees in the doorway by mere happenstance and found a message from Lord Aldric--four blue stones.
Loric brushed three of the pebbles deeper into his room and stretched forth a shaky hand to collect the one that remained. Trembling fingers brought it up to his eyes. “The hour is set,” he whispered, as he clumsily jammed the stone into his pocket. “I will not be late.”
Loric pushed himself to his feet and shoved his door to, before he staggered to his
washbasin. He repeatedly splashed cool water into his face to remove encrusted blood from beneath his nose. Then he gently patted his puffy cheeks dry. Loric tried to scrub the dirt from his new attire using a cloth from the stack the maid had left for him, but it was hopeless to think that he could coax out those stains. Angry boots of his attackers had marked him with mud, and they had torn a wide hole at his ribs. “This will have to do for now,” he murmured, disgusted by the memory of his beating and his helplessness against it.
That assault and the crossbow of the assassin prompted Loric to seek out the Sword of Logant. He could no longer roam about the castle without means of defense, no matter his promise to Aldric. He had made enemies here, and Avalana was in danger. He needed a way to protect the princess and himself. Prudence assured Loric that he should arm himself by the best means at hand, and following the drubbing that he had just received, he agreed with her and sister Wisdom wholeheartedly.
With the Sword of Logant buckled about his waist, Loric moved to his door and opened it a crack. He stood in the shadow of his doorframe, peering into the hallway and pondering how he was to safeguard Avalana and meet Aldric at the High Terrace. Loric decided he would have to divert the first Soldier of Egolstadt he could find to the guest chambers to stand watch in his place.
Loric had another hour before he needed to find a stand-in, another hour to think of a better plan. In the meantime, he was on lookout for any suspicious passersby, who might tarry overlong by Avalana’s door. While he kept his vigil, he thought of those men who had abused him, and he considered their words.
Loric reviewed the encounter repeatedly, until he at last settled on a series of truths. First, the soldiers were unquestionably devoted to Lord Dandrakor of Gurn, whoever he might be, or they would never have beaten a rumored lord of their own volition. Second, this mysterious Regalsturnian Lord was to be feared if he was in fact more violent in action than his two henchmen were. Third, and most important to Loric, Dandrakor was keenly interested in Princess Avalana. Is he her lover or does she despise him? Loric wondered. Perhaps this lord is the one to whom the princess threatened to run when her father promised to bring her to Beledon under guard, Loric considered. If so, does she love this man or does she only use him when her ends suit her? In either case, the traveler from Taeglin reasoned, Lord Dandrakor’s avid desire makes him dangerous, especially to a perceived rival for Avalana’s affection.
Time passed slowly. There were no signs of inordinate activity. A few courtiers passed down the hallway to attend on their respective lords and ladies. They were no threats to Avalana.
Later, an overly festive couple wandered down Loric’s corridor by mistake. The stink of wine coming off them told the watchman that the grape had gotten the better of them. The pair never approached Avalana’s door, although Loric thought they might sway into his chamber with him on accident. They were more interested in one another than acts of murder at midnight, so they too were harmless. Not a hint of danger approached before one o’clock drew nigh.
Loric tugged his long woolen cloak securely about his sword to keep it hidden and
stepped into the hall, being sure to shut tightly behind him the door to his room. Loric proceeded to the nearest guard tower, where he told the man posted by the door, “Lord Aldric has made a special request to have a man posted at each end of the guest hallway where he is presently quartered.
Could you see to it that two men are dispatched at once?”
The guard seemed hesitant. His tongue looked fat in his open mouth.
“If you cannot spare men of your own, send this message on to Men of Egolstadt with all haste, if you please,” Loric told him. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have an urgent meeting with the Lord of Egolstadt and I cannot be late.”
Without waiting for a reply, Loric hurried along his way. Sensing the urgency of his meeting with Aldric following the evening’s unlikely events, he made haste to the High Terrace, which was situated between two tall towers overlooking a moonlit courtyard. In his eagerness to learn what had come of Aldric’s chase, he arrived well ahead of his liege lord. He found the high walk dreadfully lonely at that late hour. It was like a different place than the one Marblin had shown him at midday.
“Forgive my tardiness,” Aldric’s resonating tone blared.
Loric jumped at the sound. He expelled a relieved breath and turned to face his liege. With a slight bow, he started, “My lord, I am glad to see you-”
The gash above Aldric’s eye halted his words in his mouth. “My quarry caused me minor injury,” he explained tightly in answer to Loric’s unasked question. Subdued harshness stalked between his words. He was clearly angry, but he was as poised and professional as Loric had ever seen him. “It would pain me less if the scoundrel had not escaped me.”
“No!” Loric cried in frustration. “Say it is not so.” His reaction was out before he could stifle it, but he could not take it back.
Aldric nodded his understanding and put his arm on his squire’s shoulder to draw him near.