by David
That stopped Loric outside his room. He wanted to turn and take the princess in his arms, assure her that everything would be all right. It was a dream for fools. Loric shook himself awake.
“Good night, Loric,” said Avalana She vanished behind the timber panels of her door as Loric surrendered his hope of denying his affection for her and turned to say as much. It was too late. Avalana was gone.
Loric went into his room, where he collected two of the five blue stones Aldric had left for him. He snapped his door into place behind him as approaching footsteps turned up the hallway.
They passed his room without slowing beats, until they finally dwindled out of earshot. Loric buried his sorrow for the princess, along with his self-pity. He shook those pebbles in his palm as a reminder of his sworn duty to Egolstadt.
“I will see you then, Aldric,” Loric murmured. He undressed, snuffed his candle and belly-flopped onto his bed, adding, “First, I will take a short nap to remove the dull taint of fatigue from my mind.”
****
Loric awoke. Something was terribly wrong. Without moving, he let his eyes adjust to
shadows. Nothing stirred. He eased himself from his mat, slipped on his trousers and tunic, and grabbed the Sword of Logant from his bedside. Moving quietly to the door, he stopped and listened.
A soft click came from across the hall. Loric yanked the door open to confront a dark-cloaked figure with a hand on Avalana’s door handle. “What are you-?”
A cudgel appeared from the black shroud around the humanoid--it could as well have come from thin air, for all the chance Loric had to see it--and brutally caught the bold squire in the side of his neck. Coughing and gasping for air, accompanied by a battle against dim and spotty vision, nearly consumed the whole of Loric’s actions. The dark-clad shape turned to flee. I must stop him!
Loric felt his sheathed blade tangle between the assassin’s legs, just before the knotted mass of flailing limbs and thick woolen cloth that was trying to escape him ripped the weapon from his grasp. In an instant, he was on top of cloaked elbows and knees, which were striking out in all directions to get at him. With rabid ferocity, Loric lit into the covered area where he believed the man’s head should be. When his punches were not forceful enough to end the struggle, he reached for the thick club that had almost taken him down. Its stout wooden barrel stilled the form beneath him.
Leaving the unconscious assassin where he lay, Loric retrieved the Sword of Logant and darted to the end of the corridor in search of the Egolstadter who secretly guarded the most common approach to Avalana’s room. When Loric came to the bench where the man should be sitting his watch, posing as a casual reader, he found only his book. Why is Belduin away from his post? he wondered, until he spotted a smear of blood. A closer look revealed a streaky trail of red, which he followed to a linen closet. Fearing the worst for Belduin, Loric drew a deep breath and pulled the door open. Within, he found the ghastly white husk of the soldier of Egolstadt, his eyes frozen in the moment of his murder. He had a messy line beneath his chin to mark the clean cut that had ended his life.
Loric felt sick. He kept control of his quivering diaphragm by sheer force of will. He snapped the closet shut and raced to the opposite end of the corridor, only slowing long enough to plant a frustrated kick in the ribs of the downed assassin. He did not stop running until he spotted Aldric’s other man, who was slumped in a corner with an empty bottle and tankard nearby, looking like the drunkard passersby were supposed to see.
“Nerstlin! Come quickly! The assassin has murdered Belduin. I caught the killer before he could harm Princess Avalana, though,” he added, feeling somewhat ashamed for his personal relief that his beloved princess was safe, while Belduin lay dead.
Nerstlin was on his feet at Loric’s first call. By the time Loric finished what had happened, he was moving toward Avalana’s door with a purpose in mind. “Where is he now?” the soldier demanded.
“This way,” Loric told him. The two men returned to the place where he had left the black-cloaked man.
Nerstlin helped Loric move the assassin into his room, where they held a short conference to determine who was to stand guard over the assassin and who was to report his capture to Aldric.
Loric decided the matter by reminding Nerstlin, “Your assigned task is to watch over the princess. That you can do from here. My orders are to meet his lordship at the High Terrace at two o’clock.” He put his blue stones on display for his proofs.
“You’d best hurry then,” grumbled Nerstlin. “It’s almost two now.”
An evil grin manifested itself upon Nerstlin’s face, only for an instant, but that was long enough for Loric to catch it. “You should bind the assassin, but he is not to be harmed,” Loric warned him. “Lord Aldric has questions for this man and he must answer to His Lordship of Egolstadt. Is that understood?”
Nerstlin sighed, clearly frustrated. “Belduin was my friend,” he remarked.
Loric clapped a hand to Nerstlin’s arm and said, “You would do him an injustice by killing this man before Lord Aldric has the chance to learn who hired him. I will encourage his lordship to use your fists to beat answers from him, should he refuse to cooperate.”
“Thank’ee, friend,” Nerstlin replied with a wan smile. “I appreciate your goodwill. Now run, before you are late.”
****
“You are late!” Aldric scolded Loric from the shadows at his back as he emerged from the stairwell that opened onto the High Terrace.
“My apologies, my lord,” Loric rasped. He placed a hand to his swollen neck, as he
remembered anew the painful blow the wicked assassin had dealt him. “I had a run-in with Princess Avalana’s would-be killer. He is slippery, but I managed to detain him. Even now, Nerstlin keeps watch over him and the princess.”
“Excellent!” Aldric chimed. “I shall question him straightway. Take me to him. We will discuss tomorrow’s battle plans as we walk.”
“Battle plans?” Loric questioned, more surprised by the suddenness of the plans than the plans themselves.
A trace smile formed on Aldric’s countenance. “Come,” he commanded. “I will tell you all that you need know on our way to your catch. Loric started moving alongside his liege, who happily announced, “Tomorrow we will rise before the sun and ride in full battle to Stone Keep, in Nindronburg. With our victory there, we will put an end to raids against eastern settlements of Durbansdan. We must stop bloody barbarian incursions! Perhaps subjugating Nindronburg by force will put an end to detestable dragon worship and blood sacrifices forever.”
Loric asked, “Who will look after the princess in our absence, lord?”
“I will leave a few good men,” Aldric assured him.
“Will that be enough?” Loric asked anxiously. “What if there are more slinking murderers about?”
“Would you prefer to stay here or do your duty, Loric?” Aldric asked him sharply.
This was the first time Loric regretted his decision to serve Lord Aldric. Perhaps it will not be the last, he thought glumly.
No matter his personal feelings for the princess, Loric knew that his oath demanded duty before love. It pained him to think that he may have spoken his last with Avalana, and that their words to one another had been in vent of hopelessness. Loric clung to the unlikely chance that he could rise and claim his Logantian Knighthood and the Lordship of Belgandost. That was the only way to prevail upon Avalar to grant him Avalana’s hand and save the princess from a cruel husband. Loric’s answer to Aldric was obedient, and it came to him without hesitation, even though it made his heart heavy, even in spite of all that he hoped for.
“I will do my duty.” As Loric resigned himself to fulfill his oath of service, a passing thought caused him to question, “Lord, does this mean the Bushubu threat is to be ignored?”
“I argued against moving without first crushing the savages, but Lord Garrick and his noble son do not view the Bushubu Tribe as a genuine threat to Moon
river Castle. They see the beastly Bushubu as a nuisance and nothing more,” Aldric shared. His disappointment was evident, no matter how hard he tried to conceal it. His face brightened again and his outlook followed suit.
“There will be plenty of time to deal with the Bushubu,” he said, “but we must first raise Lord Garrick’s banner high above Stone Keep.”
“Snowstorm will be saddled and dressed for battle, ere the sun is up,” Loric assured his liege.
“Good. That would be much to my liking.”
Two men walked in silence. Loric interrupted the quiet to grunt, “Nindronburg.”
“Land of dragon worshippers to the east, those who rebelled against King Donigan for
declaring their deceitful gods unholy,” Aldric added.
Loric knew of those legends, and he likewise knew that the self-styled, King of Nindronburg was a barbarian usurper, named Turtioc. Tales of his savage folk sometimes came to Taeglin with traveling merchants and entertainers en route to large cities and strongholds. It made Loric uneasy to think of them.
Aldric spared him the need by stating, “We shall travel eastward, along the course of Moon River to reach Nindronburg. Turtioc is one of Lord Garrick’s chief rivals for the Crown of Beledon, even in spite of his common roots and detestable practices!” Aldric snarled. “His Lordship of Durbansdan hopes to strengthen his position by casting the barbarian down, so he can unite all of Beledon at last.”
“Let us hope that all goes well when we give battle to Turtioc,” Loric said. “I should hate to think what would happen if things were to go amiss and our great enemy were to gain the advantage.”
“So should we all,” Aldric rasped, peering at Loric as though he had spoken an ill omen.
“The so-called King of Nindronburg is known to be cruel and short with his enemies. His every deed is corrupt. Furthermore, we do not want wyrm worship to spread from the heartless country where it is presently bred by that man’s savage followers.”
With that said, they arrived at the linen closet where Loric had found Belduin lifeless. There, Loric quietly recounted every detail of his encounter with the assassin and his subsequent search for help in watching over the stealthy killer. Loric impressed upon Aldric Nerstlin’s desire to help him extract information from the assassin, so the Lord of Egolstadt agreed to make good use of the soldier’s ill will toward the prisoner and hurried along to collect him. Aldric and Nerstlin bade Loric farewell, giving him their assurances that they would pluck layers of secrecy away from the villain, until he clucked aloud the name of his employer.
Loric wished them well in their endeavor. Then he shut his door and set about tooling the bevel of his blade edge. His moral principles demanded his best work in that task, because he could not bear the thought that dragon worship might spread to his home in Taeglin. Besides, dead squires do not advance to knighthood and lordship, Loric reminded himself. Loric was up and moving for another turn of the hourglass working on the edges of his sword, seeing that they were ready to deflect weapons and rend flesh. He could not sleep anyway. Aldric was uneasy about the coming assault, no matter his confident statements about the outcome he foresaw.
Loric’s dreams also made him ill at ease. Is it wise to attack Turtioc of Nindronburg, if he is as strong as Aldric suggests he is?
“There is only one way to find out,” Loric challenged as he finished his work. He held his sword aloft. Then he lashed out in front of his body. He parried an invisible blow and riposted with catlike quickness. His ghost combat continued for several minutes, before he was satisfied that he had bested his worthy opponent. Then he sheathed his blade and collapsed on his mat.
****
Loric awoke in total darkness for a second time that night. The stub of candle he had
carelessly left burning had long since guttered out. The low rumble of thunder accompanied a flash of lightning, as it suddenly lit the hallway outside his chilly chamber. Loric sat up and tried to see through the void. He fumbled through blackness for another candle, which he lit upon discovery. Using that dull, flickering light source, he made ready to depart.
Loric was not sure of the time--sometime in the dead hours, he presumed. He did not think he would sleep again until Lord Garrick’s host and its attached Egolstadters made first camp, so he decided to collect his gear and head out to the stable. His guts were quivering with sickening excitement, yet his heart was heavy with aching emptiness. Nothing could ease the latter, but keeping his hands at work was sure to help him forget his queasy stomach.
Loric stepped into the hall and snapped the door to behind him. When he turned about, Avalana was there with him. They were surprised to see one another, but the underlying pleasure that lit their respective faces was obvious, each to their counterpart.
“My lady, why do you not rest?” Loric asked, feeling guilty for trying to slip away in the night.
“I do not rest for all the reasons you do not rest!” Avalana hissed sharply. “I too have heard of great battle plans for the morrow. I would speak with you once more, before you abandon me.”
“I was on my way to the stables,” Loric said, discarding her accusation in favor of his own question, as he inquired, “do you care to join me?”
“In this rain?” the princess asked incredulously. “Have you taken leave of your senses, Ami?”
“My heart is to blame, if I have,” Loric offered heavily. Avalana turned her eyes earthward for her part in Loric’s affliction. “Besides,” he added in a lighter tone, “Marblin the Moonwatcher has shown me a secret way to the stables. We shall remain dry.” He grinned for his cleverness.
“All right....” Avalana answered skeptically. “Now you have intrigued me, and therefore, you must prove your knowledge of this alleged secret.”
Loric escorted the princess to the Hall of Heroes, which now stood empty. There, he drew back a tapestry with a small alcove behind it. He motioned the princess into the opening and let the wall hang envelop them.
“You could have seduced me in my chamber,” Avalana teased, as Loric gently took her
delicate fingers into his own.
“Careful your footing,” he warned, ignoring the fire the princess had stoked with her jest. He felt his way to the narrow descent, adding, “These steps are short, but steep.”
Hand-in-hand, the pair followed the winding stairway. They walked the tight passageway at its base, until it came to an abrupt end. Loric gave the wall before him a gentle nudge.... and Avalana uttered her surprise when it moved. The smell of horse overpowered them, slapping Avalana’s delighted smile from her face. There was mild stirring amongst beasts of war, but calm prevailed. Loric lit the oil lamp from his candle. Then he snuffed the waxen stub.
“As promised, you are still dry, fair princess,” Loric remarked.
“So I am,” Avalana returned, smiling in spite of the stink.
Loric quickly sought out Sunset’s stall. “Hey, boy!” he greeted the red stallion. “How are you?”
Sunset showed his contentment with a nod. He especially favored Avalana’s delicate touch, as the princess rubbed his velvety snout. She babied the stallion with words of Regalspeech, much to his delight.
“What would you speak with me about, my lady?” Loric inquired casually.
“Do you not guess? Or do you not care?”
Loric thought, and then replied, “I would not say that I could.” In answer to the second question, “Should I care? Would it change anything?”
“Never mind,” shrugged Avalana, turning back to the passageway. “I was foolish to hope-”
“To hope what?” Loric pressed sardonically.
“No,” she said, mostly to herself. “Running away is not the answer.”
“My lady,” Loric responded firmly, “if I felt running away would solve your problem, I would have offered to take you many days’ ride from here before now. It is far too late for that.
Duty calls me away from this place. We should say our farewells and hope to me
et again soon.”
Avalana began to weep at those words. She gasped, “What if-?”
Loric took her in his arms and held her. “I swear that I will return to you whole,” he assured her. “Your love will bring me back. Nothing will keep me apart from you.”
“But, what-?”
Loric found the princess irresistible in the soft glow of the lamplight. He placed his hand on her smooth cheek and let her face lure his near. His eyes caught Avalana’s fabulous blues and held them. “What if I seal this vow with a kiss?” Loric asked. He kissed her softly upon her lips.
“I am of lowly rank; thus your pledge is denied me,” he whispered. “You are a princess; thus your choice of suitors is denied you. Your father would purchase an alliance by giving your hand to a man you do not love, but love is a power that knows no bounds. Time? It endures all. Space?
I know that I can love you from here to Nindronburg and back again. If I travel a league from here or twenty leagues, my love for you will not fail. Indeed, it will grow stronger. Do you know why?”
“Speak, and do not be silent,” pleaded Avalana. “I only want to hear your voice, your lovely words. Let your kind and gentle phrases fill my ears. They are life to me. They fill me with hope immeasurable in these dark and uncertain times.”
Loric held her close and answered his own question, saying, “Love always grows stronger in the face of adversity, because it cannot be denied. It is raw power, given by gods. Love is unable to be tamed or controlled. It is like a fire that cannot be quenched. So my love burns for you, Avalana-- YOU, Avalana,” Loric repeated.
Avalana kissed Loric. He embraced her passion, as she threw her arms about him. The
princess squeezed him tightly and said, “Farewell, Ami. Love your way back to me soon.
Together we can plead with my father not to grant my hand to that detestable man, Garrett.”
Loric stared at her in wonderment. Does she really believe our words will make a difference to her father’s plans, or is she trying to live out the storybook tales her nursemaid told her?