by Rachel James
She scanned the riders, looking for Bordan, but could not see him. “You have no right! You’re in no position to be making idle threats and demands.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Niall and her father, high above the battlements. Niall knocked out the guard before him and headed for the portcullis.
“Last chance, Lady Alys. Stand down or reap the consequences.”
“Never!”
Niall and her father darted down the steps and through the fortress entrance. Turning on her heels, she sprinted across to join them. She lifted her shield from behind her back to ward off the arrows that shot past her. One of them hit her breastplate but bounced off again.
Niall and her father made it safely on the other side, but she was too far behind. She lifted her skirts and charged forward, her sword raised high, her legs speeding at a pace she’d not ran before. She was half-way across the bridge, before someone cut the rope. Alys gritted her teeth as she plummeted into the icy cold moat, the water like daggers to her skin. Niall and her father dragged her out.
“Run, Alys, we must make it into the woods.”
More arrows flew through the sky at them. Her legs gave out, but Niall had his arm around her waist. She had never been so glad to see the trees. “Father, you’re hurt!” she exclaimed as he staggered a few steps behind. The stain of blood to the front of his torso did not look good.
Druce pulled a strained smile. “It’s just a scratch.”
“We have to keep going,” said Niall. “Druce, how do you fare?”
With his jaw firmly set, he replied, “We’ll go to Clythburgh, and then I think I’ll need a sleep.”
Niall glanced behind. “When we make it to Clythburgh, you can rest all you want.”
Alys’s teeth started to chatter. Her clothes were entirely wet through. She stopped, looked around and whistled. They heard a horse neigh about fifty feet away from them.
“Is that Cynbel’s horse?”
“Aye.”
“You left it tied up, out here, all this time?”
“I’m glad I did. Father needs the ride.”
Niall helped her up. “Both of you can get on, I’ll run beside it.”
“Run?”
He nodded. “I’m a soldier, remember? We’re trained for this.”
“I said I’d bring you back your horse, didn’t I,” said Alys to the chief upon their return to the village, late into the night.
Cynbel helped her father down from the white stallion.
“Could we impose upon your hospitality once more?”
“Aye, but every time you come, my lady, someone is wounded. I’m beginning to think you attract trouble.”
“I think you might be right.”
They were shown to the same cabin as before, and Niall laid her father down on the pallet. “What do you need?” he asked her.
She ripped the sodden tunic from her father’s chest and used the fabric to staunch the wound. “You’ve been stabbed, Father. How did that happen?”
“The soldier wouldn’t let me leave.”
“So you walked anyway?”
“Something like that.” He winced as she pressed harder.
She turned to Niall. “I’ll need ointment and dressing, but...this is very deep, and I cannot mend the inside.”
Niall caught her concern and stared back at her. His unvoiced words hanging in the air between them. She pulled her gaze away, and with a shaky hand she tried to mop away the blood. It was no use—she was fighting a losing battle. A sob rose in her throat as she felt him slip away from her.
“Hush now, little one.” He sang, his voice weak and raspy. “Hush now, pain be gone.”
She kissed his hands. “Oh Papa, please do not go. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.”
“You claim your mother’s crown. It is your destiny.”
She shook her head, tears freely flowing now. “What if I never find the sword? Or if it wields no power at all.”
“You cannot bear the burden alone, child. Your mother couldn’t either. Your parents did it together, and so must you.”
Niall came back in the room with the bandages, and Alys wiped her eyes, focusing on the various items on the tray.
“There’s...something...else...”
“Mmmh?” She wanted to give her father attention, but she had to wrap the wound before he lost any more blood. If he could just hold on...
He pointed to Niall, and his hand quivered in the air. Niall dropped to his side and put his ear to her father’s mouth. Her father whispered something to him, then his hand flopped. He exhaled a long-ragged breath, and then was no more.
“Father?” she tapped his hand, knowing it was no use, but desperately trying anyway. “Papa, please!”
Niall stepped backward.
“What did he say to you?”
Niall blinked and shook his head. “All this time, he knew who I was.”
“But what did he say?”
“Time to rule.” He ran a hand through his hair.
“Those were his last words?” Not I love you, Alys. I’m proud of you Alys. She couldn’t look at him. The walls crowded in on her—she had to get out. The pain was so intense, she couldn’t breathe.
She yanked off her helmet and tugged at her breastplate. What was the use in any of it? This had all been some grand fairy-tale. But now she had naught.
She ran out of the hut, and into the fields, away from it all. But no matter how much she ran, and run she did, she knew she could never out-run the Almighty.
Chapter Seventeen
“She’ll want her father buried at Ryvilla,” said Niall, keeping his voice low.
Cynbel walked along the palisade with him. “Quite right, although your journey may be fraught with further trial. Shieldoks are still invading from the South, and Alys is in danger more than ever. You are so close to finding the sword, and without her father for protection, she is vulnerable.”
Niall made a steeple with his hands, as he kept an eye on Alys from a distance. Her body was hunched over in defeat, and she stared into the lake. He tore his gaze away from her. “Who are our allies? Does anyone stand for Alys’s position?”
“You must assemble the Rivalyn council, they are nervous about allowing a woman to rule the kingdom, but they respect the sword. Indeed, how can they not ignore the sign of God’s approval and anointing?” Cynbel turned to him. “Most of all, she will need your support, and as a high-ranking soldier in the royal army, you hold tremendous influence. Especially, if you reveal your true identity.”
He frowned at him. “You know?” Here he was thinking he was incognito. He shook his head. “I’m the same man as before. Where I came from shouldn’t make a difference.”
The chief gripped Niall’s shoulders and stared intently into his eyes. “Now is your time, Niall, to rise up. This is your chance; this is your destiny. All that you have endured has been in preparation for this moment. But you have a choice—will you accept the challenge or run back to what is familiar.”
Niall gazed down at his feet. He had encountered much suffering and loss, and mayhap he had been running. Ever since Dyrah had invaded Elmetia all those years ago.
He gazed out to where Alys walked along the water’s edge. She was where he belonged. Wherever she went, he would follow.
“Did Druce say anything to you, before he passed?”
“Aye, but it made little sense. ‘Time to rule.’”
“Ah, well Aloedia was royal by birth, as you know. She was already wed when her father died, so she became queen, but Lamorak was crowned king consort. She had armour made for him to match her own. And they fought side by side. They won a mighty battle against the Shieldoks. It is generally believed that the Sacred Sword wields the great power from on high, but...”
Niall paused and stared at Cynbel. “But what… they must also wear armour?”
The guardian tilted his head. “The sword was never meant to be used in isolation.”
&n
bsp; “The one who wears the armour wields the power?”
“It does not work like that, Niall. The armour, as well as the sword, is a public demonstration of God’s anointed and shows their willingness to obey and trust in Him. The armour is a mere vessel to display the Almighty’s and does not hold the power.”
Niall ran a hand through his hair. “So, when Druce whispered to me, about ruling...”
“He was giving you his blessing, to be united with his daughter.”
“In marriage.”
“More so than that, to stand beside her and rule as her king consort.”
Niall turned to face Cynbel. “How do you know so much about this?”
He old man smiled. “Oh, I’ve been here a lot longer than you have, son, and lived through three generations of monarchs. Alas, people’s hunger for power causes division. I served Alys’s grandfather, many moons ago. I was his closest counsel.”
“What happened?”
“When trouble broke out, he dispersed four of his men, as watchmen, over Rivalyn. We were to watch over the land, and report back to him. We have attended the monarchy in this way for over thirty years. One was sent to the Great Forest, one to Castraholm, one to the mountain, and I, to the valley.”
“You are to keep the peace?”
“We are guardians.”
“Of the armour?”
“I was not given that privilege. Nay, my role, was more of a prophetic one.”
Niall tilted his head. “Then, why did you warn me not to go after Alys? You said she had to get by on her own.”
“She needed time alone, and so did you, to see that you are stronger together than apart. God calls you both and you cannot fight it.”
He didn’t wish to. If it indeed be God’s will, the Almighty would make a way for it to happen. He walked over to Alys, who had her head resting against a tree, staring up into the sky.
He sat down beside her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. She sobbed into his chest. He tenderly stroked her hair away from her face and passed her a handkerchief.
“What are we going to do now?” she asked, her voice hoarse.
“We keep going.”
“I’m not sure if I can.”
He angled her face to his. “I’m with you. We can do this together.”
She shook her head. “Nay, I must release you to go back home.”
He cleared his throat, ignoring the slight rejection. “We’ve not found the sword.”
“What about your kingdom?”
“This is my kingdom.”
“Your family?”
“You are my family.”
She looked down. “You see me as a sister. I know that I remind you of her, of Teagen.”
Niall blinked, and tried to see things from her perspective. Had he given her that impression? “If that is how you wish it, but...” he traced the lines of her face and searched her eyes. “Truth be told, I feel...more for you than a sister.”
She bit her lip. “How much more?”
He pulled her chin up to his and kissed her tenderly. He finally released her, “That much, and more.”
She breathed out; her face flushed. Their hands intermingled. They could do this. It was time to go on.
Cabal received the scroll from the courier and glanced at the crest. He broke the wax seal with shaky hands and unwound the parchment.
“What is it?” asked Lady Meredith.
He frowned and re-read the letter. “’Tis a message from my contact in Rivalyn. It seems Osgar and Wilhelm have left Ryvilla. The palace is still guarded by Shieldoks, but our soldiers are permitted access.”
Meredith took the paper from his grasp and read it for herself. “Calipher did this. He negotiated on our behalf. God be praised. We can go home.”
He shook his head. “Nay, my lady. It does not say it is safe for you yet. I fear I must return for myself. I cannot believe those brothers would leave so easily.”
Meredith followed him into the courtyard as he prepared a horse. He turned to reassure her, but paused at the sight of the beacon in the distance.
A bell started ringing and the commotion of men assembling for warfare consumed the area.
Meredith gasped and her hands flew to her chest. “Gracious, the monks have been summoned. It will not be safe to stay here now, not with it left unprotected. Take me with you to Ryvilla.”
Cabal glanced at the light coming from Castraholm. Were Niall and Alys there? He hoped they fared well. But his duty was to the palace now, and he could not desert his charge.
“Very well. Make haste, for we leave at once.”
Alys woke up with a start. It was still the middle of the night, but something had happened. She rubbed the disorientation away from her eyes and peered out of the small window. Mayhap she’d had a bad dream?
She blinked at the sight of flames covering trenches. Her door swung open, and Niall, with his hair dishevelled and his tunic overhanging, stormed in. “We were followed. Reginald’s men have penetrated the palisade. We must go, now!”
She slipped on her shoes, grabbed her armour and ran out with him.
“Aren’t we going to stay and fight? What about the rest of the villagers?”
“The beacon is lit—help is on the way for them, and they’re prepared.”
“But what about my father’s burial?”
“No time, Alys. They’ll send him on when it is safe.”
He mounted the large white horse and pulled her up to sit in front of him. She glanced at the few supply bags straddled to the horse’s sides.
“Won’t we be too heavy?”
“We’ve little choice. Come on, let’s go around the back. I made an escape route, should the need arise.”
They galloped over the hedges of farmland, to the south part of the palisade, went through the secret gate, and entered woodland.
The place was dark, and except for the light of a pale half-moon, they had little to guide them through the trees. Alys cast a glance back at the village.
“They’ll be all right. Cynbel is a wise man.”
“Where will they go? Do you think they’ll be captured?” She hoped not. Not for her sake.
They journeyed throughout the night, travelling through the Baedu Valley and bypassing the mountain route taken initially.
“It won’t be long now,” said Niall.
They disembarked from the horse, and rested by a brook, affording them a view of Ryvilla far in the distance. In the new morning light, it looked peaceful and untouched by horrors of invasion.
Alys perched on a flat rock and removed her helmet. As she rubbed her temples, she read the inscription on the helmet once more.
Divine power... Destroys strongholds.
She closed her eyes, weary of long arduous nights, and so many unanswered questions. “If the sword harnesses the divine power, then, what could be the stronghold?”
Niall exhaled and stuck out his bottom lip in thought. “The palace.”
Alys nodded, “Aye, ’tis the obvious choice, but Ryvilla is my home. If it were there, I would have found it.”
Niall examined Alys’s sword again. “Could you have had the Sacred Sword all along?”
Alys blinked and then shook her head. “Nay, remember, Calipher says the Rivalyn Sword is much bigger. This smaller version was made so that Aloedia could use it.”
Niall frowned and spun the weapon around in his hands. “A true blade wields peace and saves with faith.”
As Niall repeated the phrase, she ran her fingers over the helmet and the light caught the words. She paused. “Destroys strongholds.” She glanced up at Niall, and he stopped at the sound of her voice. “The ruins. It has to be.”
Niall quirked his eyebrow.
“The ruins of Baedu, where King Quaid used the sword. An entire temple came down.”
“A pagan temple?”
“Aye. It was destroyed in battle...”
“You’ve been before?”
“I know where it
is, but no one dares go in there.”
“Why ever not?”
She grimaced. “Well, there is a lot of superstition about the place...naught we should fear, though, it’s just hearsay.” She got up and strapped her helmet back on. “And we’re not far, either.”
Niall helped her on the horse and climbed on behind her. His doubts were apparent. But how else could this be interpreted? The Rivalyn Sword was given by the Almighty to bring down strongholds. It had to be there. She swallowed. God, please show us.
Their stallion was still tired from journeying, but she pushed the pace as much as she dared. She could feel something pulling her toward the ruins. They were so close.
They came to an abrupt stop as the trees grew thick and their vines intermingled to form a natural wall.
Alys jumped off and peered through. “The ruins are through there.”
Niall, from behind, unsheathed his sword and sliced through the thorns. She followed his taller frame and stepped directly in his path. A bristle caught her sleeve and ripped at her arm.
“Ouch,” she said and instinctively drew it to her mouth.
“Stop!” warned Niall and grabbed her hand. “This is poisonous.” He examined her arm. “’Tis just a scratch. Here.” He pulled the wineskin from his belt and poured it on the wound. “Hopefully, we’ve flushed it away in time.”
She blinked. “How do you—?”
“We’ve thorns like this in Elmetia. I was once caught as a boy and laid in bed for three days. Trust me, you don’t want to be sucking that anytime soon.”
She exhaled. “Noted.”
Pulling her shield closer to her body, Alys continued forward, this time taking extra care. She used her sword to push through. She was head to toe in armour and the pesky things still seemed to rip at her flesh. She felt guilty that Niall was at the front bearing the brunt of it.
Their pathway through the thick barrier soon brought them to a clearing, and Alys gasped as the sight took her breath away. The temple, now a pile of rubble, had been torn in two. A flurry of birds scattered as they stepped closer.