by Rachel James
Niall paced up and down the stables as Alys and her father feasted with the Shieldoks. Was Druce going to inform them of Alys’s bloodline? If so, then he was more fool-hardy than originally thought. He’d been thinking about Alys all night. He couldn’t very well sit back and watch her fall into the wrong hands, even if it meant he delayed his personal mission.
He saddled up the horse and wagon to prepare for a quick departure. Like it or not—he would take Lady Alys back to Ryvilla this night.
Shouts sounded from the hall, and Niall’s pulse quickened. He brought the wagon out into the courtyard. Should he go in?
Out of the darkness came Alys, her eyes wide open with fear. She clutched her side, blood seeping through her fingers. Without further thought, Niall scooped her up and slung her in the back. He didn’t have time to ask what she wanted, nor the whereabouts of her father. When the warning bell sounded, they would need to depart with haste. He urged the animal to run faster. Things had changed. Alys would not make it to Rivalyn bleeding out. If memory served, there was an abbey located deep in the woods. The nuns were duty-bound to help anyone in need, even if they were from Rivalyn.
As the flaming arrows started falling Niall whipped the horse once more. He hated being cruel to an animal and hoped God would forgive him for it, in this circumstance.
They reached the abbey, and as the women came to their aid, Niall scoured their surroundings to ensure they’d not been followed.
“We are being chased,” he explained to the abbess. “Please, if soldiers come to your gates, do not disclose that we are here?”
She raised an eyebrow in question, “I pray the Lord gives me the words to say so I am not forced to lie in your favour.”
So did he. He followed the abbess to a small chamber toward the back of the building.
They tended to her wound and Alys’s screams pierced through to his soul. He stood at the door, as it was open ajar. Alys turned and stared. Her face streaked with blood and dirt, and her eyes were red and swollen, but there was a flicker of hope that remained in her features. He just prayed she was now safe.
Chapter Two
Niall stood outside the abbey’s gate and breathed into his hands to keep them warm.
“Your lady is well,” the abbess said, interrupting his thoughts.
He spun around and eyed the older woman’s countenance. “She is not—”
“Oh, I am aware.” She narrowed her eyes and glanced over his attire. “You do not wear the palace guard uniform, which begs me to question, why she got hurt in the first place, and how you came to bring her here.”
Niall ran a hand through his hair. “I’m a hired hand at Cynehofa. I was in the stables when a commotion broke out from within the hall, and she escaped, but wounded. I had to help.”
The abbess raised an eyebrow. “And what are your intentions now?”
“I will not rest easy until she’s returned to Ryvilla. I shall escort her home, if she will allow it.”
“How can a simple stable hand protect her from harm?”
He hesitated. “I am trained to bear arms.” And he missed having them. Without a sword by his side, he felt almost naked. “I do not suppose the abbey holds any weaponry I could borrow?”
The abbess’s eyes widened. “Sir, this is a place of God!”
He nodded, “Quite right.” If he found the right tools, he could fashion himself a bow and arrow.
A small grin formed on the woman’s lips. “Even the sovereign Lord allowed time for battle. Follow me, and I will furnish you with what you need. I fear you must leave soon, I hate to turf the lady out, in her condition, but if there is trouble looking for her...”
He thought the same thing. “We shall depart at once.”
Beneath her fur covers, Alys barely noticed the cold night air as the stranger loaded her on the cart once more. The abbess gave them supplies of food and water for their journey. She noted her driver now also carried a sword. She wished she had her own weapon with her. What happened to her father? To go back now was futile.
She angled her head to talk to the man who veered back through the woods. “You are taking me home?”
“Aye.”
“Are you certain where that is?”
“Aye.”
She nodded. Was she being foolish, putting her trust in a stranger? Not a wise move, but there was little choice. “I fear for my father...”
The man kept his eyes on the old road leading them out of Dyrah. “Once you are safe, I’ll return for him.”
“But what if they—”
“I do not think they’ll kill him, my lady, he is of too much import. They might hold him for ransom, though.”
She swallowed. Her mind going back to the earlier events. “King Eadward is dead.”
The man froze, though his facial features remained straight.
“They think I killed him.” She thought about the jug in her hands. It contained poison, but by whom? Was it meant for Eadward, or for...her?
“They wish me dead,” she whispered. Had the Shieldoks found out about her already?
She winced in pain, and her head throbbed. So many questions, so few answers. In just one night, her entire world had shattered. If only she could remain a simple praefect’s daughter. Deep down though, she sensed destiny had something else in store for her.
By sunrise, they reached the river. Without other men, he could not launch the sails, so he selected the smallest boat moored along the bank. Niall lifted the sleeping Alys and laid her in the vessel, keeping alert as he loaded the supplies.
So the king was dead. This changed everything, and the Shieldoks were to blame. Eadward had no children, so who would now rule Dyrah? If one of the Shieldok kings gained control, then between the three of them, they would hold power throughout the entire land of Holmorra. He shivered at the thought. This was a blow. He had been hoping he could, in time, renegotiate his circumstances with Eadward, but not now. Any hope of reclaiming Elmetia was but a dream. What would happen to Alys? Her life would truly be in danger if she was royal by blood. This couldn’t be it. He would not stand by and witness the land he loved become entirely pagan.
Niall untied the rope and pushed off into the river. He took a deep breath before jumping in. Since his shipwreck, he had not set foot into a boat, and the rocking motion played havoc with his senses. He ground his teeth. They were not at sea—all would be well. He shuddered once more. Give him land and a horse any day.
They soon caught the current and sped quickly downstream, taking them past the moors and through the Dyrahn boundaries.
Alys’s eyes fluttered open as the water turned choppier. She grabbed hold of the boat’s edge and gazed at their surroundings. “We are entering Rivalyn… This takes us directly to the palace.” She stared at him. “Have you been before?”
He hesitated. How much should he tell her? Did he wish to continue being the simple stable hand at Cynehofa? “A long time ago.”
“Where are you from? Your accent... I cannot place it.”
He grimaced at his own feeble attempt to disguise his Elmetian dialect. “A land across the sea.”
She frowned, “Then what brings you to Holmorra?”
“I’m led by God, my lady. I am on somewhat of a pilgrimage.”
“Then, you are a priest?”
“Nay. A simple man, aiming to follow God’s will.”
“No family?”
He thought of his deceased wife and unborn child. “None of my own, nay.”
He looked up as Ryvilla came into view, still some distance away. It sat nestled at the bottom of the mountain. He was a boy the last time he visited here, with his father. Did he ever meet Druce and Alys? He could not remember them, at any rate.
Once moored, several armed men came to their assistance.
“My lady,” greeted the commander. “We have been waiting for your arrival.” He cast Niall a wary glance before signalling to his men to help.
The soldiers escorted them th
rough to the hall. They gave Niall a jug of ale, placed furs around his shoulders and sat him beside the fire pit. He watched, helplessly, as they carried Alys off. He longed for a long nap, but there was no point—he must return for Praefect Druce. First though, he would rest a moment, for his arms ached from hours of rowing.
His eyelids started to droop. The next time he blinked, the commander stood in front of him. Startled, Niall sat upright, the ale from his jug splashing a little over his belly.
“I thank you for saving our lady. She says you are a manservant at Cynehofa?”
Niall nodded.
“One of our soldiers escaped and explained what happened in Dyrah.”
“And the praefect?”
“Taken captive.”
Niall sighed. If Druce’s guards had done their jobs properly, they would have escaped with Druce.
As if sensing his inner thoughts, the commander leaned forward. “Your actions suggest your fealty to our lord and lady. Is this correct?”
“I do not wish harm to come to them, nay. I said as much to her ladyship.”
“Which are?”
“To return and retrieve the praefect to safety.”
“Good. You will take one of my men with you. As you already work there, you will enter without difficulty.”
“And your man?”
“A mere trader you are conducting business with, something to that effect. Succeed in your mission, and you will be handsomely rewarded.”
Niall did not seek a reward, but it was mayhap time he moved on from Cynehofa. With Eadward dead, little kept him there. He’d recovered from his seafaring wounds, thanks to Odi and his wife. It seemed God wished him to move on now. “Is your man ready?”
“Aye. He waits for you in the courtyard. What is your name?”
Niall paused, reluctant to give it. He thought about lying but opted against it. Niall was common enough. No one would make the connection.
Alys couldn’t sleep. Her side was numb, and she turned onto her back once more. She glanced at her wound and grimaced at the sight of blood. The bandage needed changing again. She pushed herself up and dangled her legs over the side of the bed. She was about to call for Ariana and then remembered she had not returned from Dyrah.
Donning a fur-collared cloak over her nightgown, she left her chamber, the cold stone reminding Alys of her lack of footwear. After grabbing some leather slippers, she headed for the herb room. Maurice wouldn’t be up, and she did not wish to wake him, but surely, she could change the cloth herself.
She shivered as she caught the wind from the window—the draught tousling her unkempt hair further out of place.
Her thoughts drifted to her father. It had been several days and no word to his situation.
Security was on high alert, with more soldiers posted at each station, scouts sent out to guard the kingdom’s borders, although no sight of any Shieldok armies were reported.
This made her even more anxious, for the death of their high king was sure to cause further fractions between alliances as each chieftain sought greater power.
Disregarding her seeping wound, she went, instead, to the battlements. Alys climbed the stone steps and up to the south tower. “Commander,” she said casually as if patrolling the palace in just her nightgown was a common occurrence. “I did not expect to see you up and out of your bed.”
“Nor I, you,” he replied in a dry tone. “I think, my lady, you have a strong sense for battle.”
She scratched her head and blinked the dreariness of slumber from her eyes. How was it possible for her to be tired but unable to sleep? “Are you telling me, that you stand here now because you suspect trouble?”
“I am here for good reason. Our scouts roam the area, as you know. Until now, we’ve not caught sight of any Shieldok armies, but, one of my men has returned. A small raiding party is camped across the river.”
“You think they might strike at night?”
“Only the Lord knows that. I am trying to sense if there is an imminent threat. Alas, all is quiet tonight.”
She exhaled in relief. “I worry continually about my father. Have you had any news from Cabal?”
“Nay. I had hoped they’d send a message pigeon by now.”
Disappointed, she continued her walk along the battlements and stared out at the night, dim torches framed the palace perimeter, and the half-moon and its companion of stars lit up the sky. The throbbing pain to the side reminded Alys of her need for a bandage. Upon returning, she bypassed her mother’s chamber. To her surprise, light escaped from beneath the doorway. Alys knocked gently on the old oak door.
“Come,” called out the familiar voice.
The door creaked slightly as she entered, and she climbed on the huge feather bed that her mother and father usually occupied.
“What is it, daughter? Are you in pain?”
“Aye, a little. My wound will not stop bleeding.”
“Here, let me tend to it.”
Her mother closed the chamber door and lifted Alys’s tunic. “Mmm, you’re right it needs redressing. I keep some clean strips of cloth in my trunk.” She searched her room. “Something is troubling you.”
Alys bit the corner of her lip. Something? Everything more like. “I worry about Father.”
“As do I, but that’s not it.”
This was why she avoided seeing her mother until now. Why was it parents had the skill to see right through a person? Alys sighed. The subject was difficult to broach. “When we were away, Father told me...that is to say...he said I am the daughter of King Lamorak and Queen Aloedia. I knew that you adopted me as a babe but...”
Her mother gasped, and her eyes turned moist. “We were going to tell you together.” Mother’s shoulders sagged, and then she shook her head. “He would not have done this without a valid reason.”
“Alas, I am struggling to see why.”
“You are hurting.” Her mother took hold of her hands and placed them in her lap. She tentatively stroked them whilst gazing off into the distance. “The moment I held you, I knew you belonged to us, it was as if God had destined it. No parent wants reminding that their child is not of their blood. Mayhap...we should have told you sooner, but it was of such importance, for both you and the kingdom, that you did not reveal the truth. As a young girl, it would have been so easy for you to mistakenly betray it, but as time went on...well, it just got harder to tell you. In the end, your father and I decided that we would speak to you once you reached one and twenty. By then, you would complete your training and the council would be prepared.”
“For what?”
“You are only heir presumptive—although royal by birth, the council has to agree for you to be their ruler. Yet it has been over a score since a royal occupied the throne room.”
“And now that Eadward is dead?”
“I suspect your father sees this as your opportunity to take a stand, before one of the Shieldok rulers try to claim our land for themselves.”
Alys shuddered. “I’ve met all three kings of the south, and I am no match for any of them.”
“You are your mother’s daughter. If you only knew Aloedia, you would not be so quick to dismiss yourself. She was a famous shield-maiden, and in the days she, and Quaid before her, ruled, our kingdom was fearless. We produced the best weaponry in all the land. Even now, the Shieldoks covet our Rivalyn Steel.”
“What led to their downfall if they were so intrepid?”
“Legend states that Aloedia’s sword went missing.”
Alys shrugged. “What of it?”
Her mother frowned. “Have I not told you this tale, daughter?”
“Nay. I only remember the stories of old, when King Terynon and King Quaid ruled.”
“Ah, well as you know, the Sword of Rivalyn is a sacred symbol and represents the crown. Aloedia carried the sword, and not Lamorak because he was only king consort. Your mother was the direct descendant of your grandfather, Quaid, and Lamorak became joint ruler when he
married her. Lamorak claimed the title, but the royal blood runs through your mother’s side. She received the sword as part of her coronation as queen. It is said to hold power enough to defeat any army with it.”
“And the moment her sword was stolen, she was defeated?”
“Some say.”
“To possess such strength is an enormous responsibility... I do not think I am ready for it...nor desire it.”
“’Tis not a choice, daughter. This is your destiny.”
“I do not believe that. I cannot.”
Her mother cupped Alys’s face in her own hands. “There is naught to fear. We’ve still time. We’ll discuss it again when your father returns, he’ll have a plan.”
Indeed, he would. But what would happen if he didn’t return?
Chapter Three
They travelled by boat, then horseback, galloping through the wind, the rain, and the heat of the sun. The journey from Ryvilla to Cynehofa was a relatively straightforward one but seemed to take an age, nonetheless.
“We must be nearly there,” said Cabal
Niall glanced at the young Rivalyn soldier. “I do not doubt it.”
Cabal picked up the pace and overtook him, heading for the skyline. He drew to a halt and gazed out at the Kingdom of Dyrah below. “What is our plan?”
“First, we head for Odi’s hut, outside the palace walls. He will care for the horses and give you a change of clothes.”
Cabal stroked his fine scarlet cloak. “What’s wrong with my attire?”
“You’re supposed to be a tradesman, remember? Odi and Mayda helped me when I first arrived at Cynehofa. He’ll make you blend in with no trouble.”
“Do you trust this ‘Odi’?”
“Aye, with my life.” Niall glanced at the sun’s position in the sky. “We’ve not long before sunset. We must hasten if we are to gain access through the gates. They’ll not open them at eventide if they are still on high alert, which I suspect they are.”
“Let’s get going.”