Rivalyn

by Rachel James

  But now, as he stood before Alys, truly as himself, he wondered if he were free at all. He would lose everything that mattered.

  Her.

  The look of disappointment in Alys’s eyes was his undoing. She shook her head in dismay and turned back to the settlement.

  One thing he understood about women, was their need for space. He would let her adjust to the idea and speak to her again about it that evening. In the meantime, he needed time to think. Whether or not Alys wanted to help, he had given Cynbel his word that he would assist where he could. However, he could finish today, for there was not much left to do, and they could journey on tomorrow.

  He picked up a shovel and returned to the men. Mayhap it was time to return home. He couldn’t remain as Alys’s bodyguard now. He would see through to retrieve the sword, then be on his way. It was time he faced his past.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Alys packed a small sack of supplies, secured the shield to her back, and fastened her armour.

  Maude hovered at the doorway. “Can I not persuade you to stay m’lady? There are only a few hours of daylight left.”

  She shook her head vigorously. “I’ll not delay my journey any longer. I need to find my father, it’s been many days since I last set eyes on him, and in truth, I fear the worst. Is there a horse I could borrow?”

  “Cynbel has one. I’m sure he’ll not mind if you need it. None of us can ride it anyhow.”

  “Thank you.” She gave the girl a hug. “Here,” she slipped off a ruby signet ring from her little finger. “A gift, of my gratitude.”

  The girl’s eyes widened, “Good grief, who am I to own such a fine thing?” She placed it on her hand and waved her fingers to catch the light. “I’ll treasure it, always.”

  Alys slung the bag over her shoulder and headed for Cynbel. He sat on the step with his head hung down, his hands propped up by a stick.

  “You have come for the horse. I expect,” he said, without movement.

  Alys blinked at the man’s forthrightness.

  “The moment I saw you leave your cabin I knew we wouldn’t be keeping you for much longer. I understand the importance of your quest.” He nodded to her belt buckle, and she touched it self-consciously.

  “What do you know of this?” she asked curiously.

  His eyebrows rose, “I remember the time when your mother was queen. Those were exciting days. When she rode to war, wearing that fine armour of hers, every man would follow her, for she commanded such passion, we believed in her cause.”

  “Did you witness the sword’s power first hand?” she asked, excitement rising.

  “Oh, aye. We never lost a battle when she ran in front of us.”

  She sat down next to him. “Then I don’t understand, if the sword is truly as powerful as people think, how did she die?”

  “Doesn’t make you immortal, lass, rather, you become a vessel, for the Almighty to act in His power.” He shook his head. “Remarkable. I hope you find it.”

  “Do you have any idea where it could be?”

  He laughed. “Now what would an old man like me know of such things? If your mother left you a message to find the armour, she would have done so in a way that only you’ll understand. Trust in that, child.”

  She nodded, took a deep breath and headed for the door.

  “You’ll find your horse in the paddock.”

  She frowned, a little confused. “My horse?”

  “Aye, prepped and waiting for you.”

  “But I—”

  “Consider this a gift. I’m only honoured to be a part of your exciting journey. God speed, child.”

  Still baffled, she decided not to question him any further and make it more difficult to leave. She glanced over the fields to where Niall still dug trenches with the common folk. A pang of guilt stabbed at her heart for leaving without talking to him first—but she’d given him fair warning. He chose not to accompany her. Nay, she owed him naught. This was her country, and her crown to claim.

  She inhaled at the sight of the white stallion, an utter beauty. Such a pure breed, with no speckle or mark in sight. She could not accept the gift. When this had all finished, she would certainly return the horse.

  It had been a long, hard day, but now that the palisade was finished, the gate erected, the trenches dug, and the men shown how to use their weapons, his task was complete. Niall was so mud-soaked; he longed for a bath but supposed the nearby river would suffice.

  Niall’s stomach rumbled so loud that the other men heard and laughed.

  He looked around the settlement, for he was ready to face Alys and explain things to her. But she was not in her cabin or with the other women on the site. Uneasiness festered as he tried to keep his fluctuating emotions in check.

  “She’s gone, laddie.”

  He closed his eyes, dread and regret enshrouding him. He turned to where the chieftain’s voice came from. “Why did you let her go without me? Did you not try to stop her?”

  Cynbel’s head jerked. “What could an old man do to halt the strong will of a young princess? Nay, it be God’s will, lad. This she does alone.”

  “And what is that exactly? You talk as if she is part of some greater plan, one which you are privy to.”

  He gave a knowing smile. “You’re not far off, laddie. Do not worry, your place is by her side, right enough now. And you might as well go after her, though I suppose you may want a wee bath first, or you’ll scare off those noble fuddy duddys, I shouldn’t wonder.”

  Anger began to rise deep inside his chest. The nerve of the man indeed. “How long ago did she set off?”

  “Only a few hours.”

  Relief filled him. “Good, then I should easily catch up with her if I leave now.”

  “Ah, she took our only horse, so I imagine she’ll reach the city before nightfall.”

  “You gave her the only horse?”

  “Well, the animal belonged to her anyway, so I didn’t give her anything.”

  Niall rubbed his temples and got dirt into his eyes. Would God ever give him a break? This man, whom he had tirelessly helped for the past three days, was being deliberately difficult!

  Cynbel laughed and patted his back. “Oh, worry not, son. Get yourself a hearty meal, a decent night’s sleep, and in the morning, you’ll be ripe and ready to chase after that young love of yours.”

  His eyes widened. “Love? Now I think you’re mistaken...”

  The chief laughed again and headed to the cooking hut, shaking his head along the way.

  Niall stared at his hands. If he tried to rest, he’d not sleep for the worry. He had handled this entirely wrong and would rectify the situation without another moment to lose.

  She’d made good time. Alys jumped down from her horse and tied the reins loosely around a tree stump. She swallowed, a little apprehensive, and walked out toward the gatehouse.

  “Who goes there?” a soldier called out.

  “Alys of Rivalyn, the praefect’s daughter.”

  The silence which followed seemed to last forever. At last, the gates opened, and out stepped her father.

  Relief and anguish washed over her, as she ran to him, and gripped him tightly.

  “Oh, sweet child, thank God you are well. Come, we have much to talk about.” He looked around, “But not here.”

  He escorted her through a side gate, and into his private chambers. “You found the queen’s armour,” he said, his eyes turning moist.

  “Mostly.” She stared at him, a thousand questions surfacing, and not knowing where to start. “Why did you leave us?”

  “Is that what you think?” He drew his large arm around her like she was five again and he was telling her a bedtime story.

  Sighing, she removed her cloak and armour and lay them on the bed. Her father touched the silver and blue sapphire, running his hands along the inscription. “It seems like only yesterday I saw your mother wearing this.” He suddenly looked up. “Where are your guards?”

&nb
sp; “I lost Cabal at the monastery, and Niall...he’s at Clythburgh.”

  “He abandoned you?”

  She shook her head. “On the contrary, I left him. Father, he’s not what he seems—”

  The door knocked loudly.

  Her father picked up her armour and threw them under the bed. “Quick, hide.”

  “But they must know I’m here, the soldiers would have—”

  “Now, Alys.”

  Reluctantly she obliged him and skidded under just in time.

  “Enter.”

  From her hideout, she could only see another pair of feet, and not to whom they belonged.

  “Druce, I hear your daughter arrived...where is she?”

  “She’s had a long journey, and is indisposed at the moment, besides I think she wants to rest.

  The man cleared his throat. “I’d like you to join me at the council meeting, if Lady Alys can spare you. Perchance she can accompany us for dinner. My son, in particular, would like to meet her.”

  “Of course. Give me a few minutes to get ready and I’ll be with you shortly.”

  She waited for the sound of his departure before coming out and breathed a sigh of relief as her father helped her up.

  “Listen, I have little time. I had hoped Castraholm would come to our aid with the Shieldoks. Alas, it seems, that they have other plans. They are meeting with Bordan as we speak.”

  She gasped. “What do they want?”

  “An alliance.”

  “And the sword?”

  “They know not that you search for it, and we must ensure it stays that way. But with Bordan here, ’tis not safe...”

  “Nor for you, by the sounds of things.”

  “Nay child, it is you they want, you are the only obstacle for them claiming Rivalyn.”

  “But Father, I came here for the sword...”

  “Where do you think it is?”

  “The clues led me here. Where exactly, I’m not sure. But I can’t go now. Go to your meeting, and I will stay and figure this out, indeed it may prove useful to us if I go to dinner. It will give me a chance to snoop around a little.”

  “Very well child, but take care whilst I’m gone.” He patted her arm. “And find Niall.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s our secret weapon.”

  “But—”

  “He’s not a bodyguard? I’ve known all along.” He sent her a wink and then left the room.

  Alys locked the door behind him, slumped on the bed, and laid her armour on the mattress. She re-read the inscription on her shield, and thought about the Scripture to which it referred:

  For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.

  She sighed and picked up her sword. “A true blade wields peace and saves with faith,” she read aloud.

  Naught. She rubbed her eyes, and then her head. Mayhap she had overdone it. Aloedia, what were you trying to tell me?

  Frustrated, she closed her eyes and recited the armour of God passage from memory. Flesh and blood was mentioned there also. What did that mean…. a healing chamber, mayhap. The opposite would be, a cemetery, or a tomb?

  She paused in thought. Could a helmet have been buried with her mother?

  Nay. That didn’t make sense, her mother had hidden the helmet before she died.

  What was that Psalm she’d read a few days ago? He crowns the humble with salvation. There had to be some link to the helmet with a crown. Mayhap it wasn’t her mother’s crown, but another monarch’s. Would the helmet be inside a tomb of a king? What about her great-grandfather? It could be buried in Castraholm. Was that possible? High places, heavenly places... She was on a mountain already, but was there somewhere even higher? She had to leave and investigate.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “What do you mean, you won’t let me through?” Alys placed her hands upon her hips, quite outraged at the manservant.

  The boy began to shake, “I’m sorry, m’lady. Those are my orders. You’re not allowed to leave.”

  “From whom?”

  “Why, his lordship of course.”

  “Lord Reginald?”

  The boy nodded.

  She released a long, controlled breath. “My dear laddie, I am the praefect’s daughter. He has no right to detain me against my wishes.”

  The boy frowned. “The praefect is... Haven’t you spoken to him?”

  “Aye, but—”

  Someone cleared their throat behind them.

  She spun around; a soldier stood before them with his arms folded. “The boy is correct. Your father is being held, and, now are you.”

  “Under what grounds?”

  The man didn’t move. “I do not inquire as to the reasons, my lady, I follow the orders. His lordship is gracious enough to allow you both free rein of the fortress, as a token of goodwill. However, you may not pass through the gates.”

  She gulped. No wonder her father hadn’t wanted her to be seen. Foolish girl. If only she had kept a low profile, she could have snuck out. Although, judging by the height of the walls, she doubted it. They were unscalable. Even for her.

  “Your presence is requested in the hall,” he continued.

  She grabbed the boy by the crook of his neck. “I don’t think so. Now I demand to be set free.”

  The soldier laughed. “Kill him, he is of no consequence to us.”

  She sighed as her bluff failed. She edged herself backward then shoved the lad away from her. His falling action proved a suitable distraction, with just enough time for her to run. She sped passed the stunned soldier and out into the courtyard.

  “Shut the gates!” he yelled.

  To her horror, the portcullis lowered. She charged forward—she could still make it.

  Suddenly, someone yanked her backward, and she landed heavily on the cobbled ground, the wind escaping from her lungs.

  The soldier hoisted Alys up, causing a sudden wave of dizziness. “You might think you’re someone special, but around here, you’re naught. Got that?” He dragged her through to the hall where she stumbled.

  “What is the meaning of this?”

  Alys glanced up, blowing a tendril of hair away from her face. In front of her, sat her father, and five other men. The one wearing the fine purple cloak, she presumed to be Lord Reginald. He stood like a peacock, glaring at the soldier.

  “Lady Alys is a guest and will be treated as such.”

  Her legs wobbled unsteadily. “I demand to be allowed to leave. I only came to see how my father faired. Now that I know he is well, I must be on my way.”

  Reginald smiled coldly. “I am afraid that is quite impossible. For your safety, I can assure you. The Shieldoks are encamped around the fortress, and it is out of the question for any of us to go outside.”

  “Even against my will?”

  “Alys,” her father warned.

  She glanced at him—was he too a prisoner? Under such false pretences?

  Reginald stared at her armour, with narrowed eyes.

  Self-conscious, Alys pulled her cloak tighter. She examined their faces and shivered when she spotted Bordan. “You are discussing an alliance with Shieldia?” she asked Reginald.

  “Indeed.”

  “Then how can the Shieldoks be a threat to us?”

  Reginald tutted. “Please, join us at the table. Negotiations, as you know, take time.” He pulled out a chair and motioned for her to sit. Someone poured her a goblet of wine, but she chose not to drink it. With such pretentious men surrounding her, she didn’t believe a single one of them.

  A pang of guilt stabbed her as she remembered how she deserted Niall. Would she have been in this predicament if she waited for him? Who knew, but at least she could trust him.

  Niall was worn-out. He sat within the city gates, in an outside tavern. He could only assume Alys was now inside the fort walls. He longed to storm through the entran
ce and find her, but the late hour, and common sense, told him to wait until morning.

  He sipped from his drinking horn, and leaned back in his chair, studying the crowd in the dirt streets. Castraholm was a city just like any other.

  A group of soldiers strode past him, heading to the fortress, and the use of Alys’s name caught his attention. Leaving a coin for his drink, he drew up his hood and shadowed them.

  “Why are they holding him?” said one of them.

  “How should I know?”

  “I thought they were allies. Makes little sense to me.”

  “It doesn’t have to, stupid. We have our orders, and that Lady Alys is a sly one. She already tried to leave once tonight, so Reggie wants you all on patrol.”

  Niall lingered safely in the shadows, and as the portcullis raised to allow the soldiers in, he snuck in behind them, grateful for wearing dark simple clothing, and not heavy armour that rattled each time he walked.

  He followed them through the corridor. If he wanted to get closer to the action, he would need a disguise. They arrived in the barracks. Mayhap it was time to be a guard once more. On one of the pallets, a guard’s uniform sat, as if begging to be stolen. He shrugged. To refuse such an opportunity would practically be a crime. He grabbed the armour, thankful, for once, that it included a helmet. He would look just like any other soldier here.

  Falling behind a line of soldiers, he slipped into the hall. Whatever such meeting had formerly occurred, had long been disbanded. Instead, dancing took place in the centre, and Alys sat on the sideline, her back rigid, chin up, and eyes firmly set. It was true—she was being held here against her wishes. He glanced across at the entourage of council members, some leaders he recognized from the different regions across the northern realm. And then there was Praefect Druce. The man always hid his emotions well, but Niall suspected he was not happy about their situation either.