Rivalyn

by Rachel James

  Lifting her skirt, she sprinted to the battlements and climbed the steps two at a time. She was out of breath by the time she reached the top and leaned over the stone wall. Her heart nearly stopped at the sight of the army approaching. “Merciful heavens.”

  Niall was right behind her. “What is it?” He froze.

  She didn’t recognize the banner which led the soldiers from the front, but the purple and gold colouring certainly resembled the Shieldoks.

  Niall still did not move, his mouth slightly agape.

  “Niall?” She turned to him, his hands were cold to touch, and his eyes began to glisten. “Niall!”

  He blinked, looked at her as if seeing her for the first time, and then back out to the impending army. “Those are the Angularem Knights.”

  Niall stood back, unsure of what to do with himself. They had found him, after all this time. Would they be glad to see him? Angry that he’d never returned? Would Teagen be amongst them?

  God, help me.

  Alys squeezed his hand.

  He inhaled deeply and forced himself to calm down. God was in control, and he was at peace, despite the current circumstances.

  The portcullis lowered, and they darted back into the courtyard as his brother-in-law led the procession.

  He went over and gave the tall blonde warrior a hefty clap on the back. “Ryce, why you haven’t changed a day.” He stopped when he came to Sherwin. They had not departed on good terms, and he shifted his feet.

  A huge grin formed on Sherwin’s lips, and he jumped forward, pulling Niall in for a hug. “Thank God you are all right.”

  When Sherwin finally let go, Niall studied his expression. “We are good, you and I?”

  “The past is behind us, my dear friend. I am only sorry we did not resolve our differences before you left—but—I thank the Lord for another opportunity to apologize and set things right with you.” Sherwin cleared his throat. “I know she was promised to you, but after we’d heard of your shipwreck...”

  “You wed Alena. Teagen informed me... I’m truly pleased for you both.”

  “You-you are?”

  Niall laughed at his surprised look. “Indeed. I’m glad you’re all alive and well, and that you came to our aid.”

  He glanced behind them. “Speaking of which, where is Teagen?”

  Ryce handed his horse over to the stable boy. “Someone had to remain behind, and she did not wish to leave Nyle.”

  “Nyle?”

  “Your nephew.”

  Niall swallowed, as the notion sunk in. He knew his sister had given birth to a son, but there was only so much information that could be held by a small carrier pigeon. Tears pricked his eyes, and he blinked them back.

  “Well, at least Angularem is still in good hands. Come, you are in time for food. We’ve much to discuss.”

  “Where is Lady Alys?” Ryce asked Niall, as they lingered after supper. The hall overflowed with people from all over the kingdom and beyond, telling tales and drinking mead together.

  “Praying in the chapel.”

  Ryce glanced up at him, his eyebrows showing approval. “You’ve changed.”

  “Have I?”

  “I think it’s your accent.”

  He laughed. “I had to lose it when undercover at Cynehofa. I suppose it has stuck.”

  Ryce nodded and propped his legs up on the table. “So… Alys?”

  Niall shrugged. “You noticed? I have feelings for her but... I want this to be in God’s plan.”

  Ryce moved his chess piece, taking away one of Niall’s pawns. “You’re scared aren’t you. Of rushing-in like you did with Alena.”

  Niall sighed at the memory. “The situation didn’t turn out well.”

  “But what of missed opportunity, thought about that?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’ll be marching down to battle soon. Who knows what will happen.”

  Niall stared at the people who filled the hall. They could all perish. What if he died without acting on his love for Alys? Or even worse, what if she perished…and he never had the opportunity to be with her?

  Suddenly the door opened, and Alys strode in, her head high, her stature confident and purposeful. She held a rolled scroll in her hands. She sat next to Niall. “I have written the terms, as we discussed.”

  Ryce cleared his throat, “Which are?”

  “That we declare battle, in the Baedu Valley, three days hence.”

  Niall lowered his head toward Alys’s, cornering her off from the others. “You are sure?”

  “Aye. I’ve prayed about it, and I am at peace.” She searched his eyes. “I believe this is the right thing to do. God has gone before us, and the battle is in his hands. If it is His will that I rule, He will make sure it happens.”

  Niall took her hand in his own, traced her delicate features, and touched the callouses to her fingers where she’d wielded her sword. “When do you want to leave?”

  “In a day.”

  He nodded, allowing the information to fester. Tomorrow night could be their last. “Wed me, Alys.”

  “What?”

  “It is sudden, I admit, but we cannot know what our future holds. As you say, it is in God’s hands, and if all we have is tomorrow, then I’ll take it. Be my wife.”

  She glanced at the others sitting at the table, engrossed in their conversations, and then back at Niall. She gazed up at him, her head tilted. “Aye,” she said, her lips forming a beautiful smile. “Let’s do it.”

  Alys’s hand trembled as she glanced into the looking glass.

  Ariana squeezed her hand, and then placed a simple flower behind Alys’s ear, accentuating her hair which flowed down like a veil to her waist. “Beautiful, my lady.”

  Alys exhaled. Would Niall think so too? She’d chosen a pale sage green dress that shimmered in the candlelight. It was far too flimsy for a late autumnal wedding, but truly breath-taking, with gold thread embroidery embellishing the bodice. Her sleeves swished gracefully as she moved. “I’m glad we decided to wed at sundown—the place is so quiet.”

  A knock at the door sounded and she jumped. Just wedding jitters, she told herself.

  “Come.”

  She paid little attention to the person as they entered, and she continued to fuss with a rebellious strand of hair.

  She glanced up and gasped at the sight of her mother in the reflection. Caring no longer about her appearance, she dropped the hairpin and flung her arms around her. “I thought you unwell.”

  Mama stroked Alys’s hair. “And miss your wedding?” she tutted and paused to wipe a tear from Alys’s face. “Hush there, child. We cannot have you appear all red-eyed and bleary.”

  “I miss Father.”

  Mama swallowed, her face firm. “Aye, as do I, but he is in a better place, and he would have wished to be here, of course.” She swiped quickly as tears began to fall. “Now look, you set me off too.” She forced a smile and turned Alys back to the mirror. “Let me finish your hair.”

  Alys swallowed, a lump forming in her throat. She didn’t mind that it was to be a simple occasion. At least, by all miracles, she had family to witness the event. She stared at her mother in the glass. Her complexion was a little pale. “Truly, are you well enough?”

  “Aye, my dear. I’ll not lie, your father’s passing has taken its toll on my weary state. But, my heart swells with love for you, little one. You have made us, so very proud.”

  Alys relished in another embrace and accepted the handkerchief to dry her tears. Mama was with her, and she and Niall would be together. She wouldn’t be alone any longer.

  As Alys walked into the chapel with her mother, Niall stood at the front, with the priest, waiting for her. Sherwin, Ryce, Cabal, and Ariana were witnesses, and the night’s stillness only added to the calm and beauty of the ceremony. The holy sanctuary radiated in candlelight, drawing attention to the intricate murals covering the walls. Her birth parents couldn’t be there in person, but she felt strangel
y close to them, being surrounded by artefacts that reminded her so much of them.

  She took hold of Niall’s hands as she vowed before God to be faithful to him as a wife and love him always. She knew right then, that regardless of what challenges lay ahead for them, they’d face them together.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Alys lay next to her husband the next morning, pushing aside the unsettling feeling that lingered deep in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t want to move from the safety of his embrace, for fear she might never return to it.

  “All will be well,” he whispered in her ear. He was so close that she could feel his heartbeat. If only hers would slow down to match his confidence.

  She twisted round to face him, and aware of their new-found intimacy, she glanced away.

  He placed his finger under her chin and kissed her nose. “What’s this, shy all of a sudden?”

  She nestled her face in his neck and breathed in his urban masculine scent. “Mayhap...just a little.”

  He stroked her hair, which tousled free, no doubt a mess. “We should make a move.”

  She snuggled in closer. “Do we have to?”

  “You’re the queen, you tell me.”

  She sighed, and pushed herself up on her elbows, but not daring to escape from the warmth of the fur covers. “I’m not a queen yet.”

  She washed and dressed behind the wooden screen in their chamber, and Niall helped her with the armour.

  “What are you doing?” asked Niall as he buckled up her breastplate.

  “Mmmh?” she glanced up, unaware of her mumbling. “Praying…as I put on the armour—you know. Belt of truth, shoes of peace, the breastplate of righteousness, the shield of faith...”

  Niall helped her with the helmet. “Not forgetting your salvation. ’Tis my prayer for us today, that God will save us.”

  She picked up her sword and secured it to her belt. “We’ve been on a journey, that is for certain. I am a different person to the naive girl of a few months ago.”

  She watched him in the mirror, taking in every detail, memorizing every facet about him. Finally, she pulled her gaze away. They were about to enter battle, and she would need to focus. Their entire kingdom depended upon it.

  They marched to the beat of the drum, slowly, meticulously toward the valley. Calipher’s army approached far on the other side. Niall led on horseback at the front, Alys next to him. Niall signalled to Ryce to fall back with the foot soldiers. Behind them readied the Wealdfolk with their bows.

  A man rode out to meet them, and Niall and Alys met him half-way, in the centre.

  “The king’s terms,” said the messenger as he opened a scroll, “are that you surrender yourself, and forfeit your crown. Do so, and you may all live.”

  Alys glanced at Niall, and then at the messenger. “I am the rightful ruler of Rivalyn. Calipher will surrender the sword to me, and then I may let he and his men live.”

  The man nodded nervously and leaned forward. “Please my lady, this is not worth dying for. Calipher has control of our soldiers. Your efforts are futile.”

  Niall cleared his throat. “That is Queen Alys to you, the true heir of Rivalyn. Stand against her, and you stand against God. Who do you think is likely to fail? I’d consider that before you run into battle for a man who has come to steal, kill and destroy all you hold dear.”

  The man’s eyes grew startled, he hesitated, nodded and turned his horse around.

  Alys drew a ragged breath and briefly closed her eyes. Niall took her hand and squeezed. “Ready?”

  She gave a terse nod, and yanked on her horse’s reins, galloping back to their troops with renewed fervour.

  They waited, battle-ready, the foot soldiers lined-up in their thousands, spears in the front-line, pointed outward, their shields covering their bodies. Behind them, the warriors with swords awaited their time.

  Alys glanced back at their archers. Calipher had taught her battle techniques, she knew his strategies. He would send his riders on horseback to charge forward and catapult fire to breach their line-up. But if they positioned their bowmen on higher ground, they could destroy Calipher’s defence before he broke their shield wall.

  She leaned over to Niall. “We need to send some of our archers up higher, on the mountain pass. They are good climbers; they’ll be able to do so inconspicuously.”

  “I like what you’re thinking. I’ll send word to Sherwin.”

  As expected, the Rivalyn soldiers charged forward. Niall held out his arm. “Wait—” he yelled. He glanced up at the archers, to check their position. He nodded over to Sherwin who signalled back. It was like old times. “Wait—” he repeated, hoping that he knew what he was doing. He held on until all the Rivalians were trapped in the valley.

  “Release!”

  Arrows flung through the sky from above and from behind. Hundreds of the soldiers collapsed to the ground.

  He repeated, taking out more of the horsemen. The soldiers neared their shield wall.

  “Ready your spears!” he shouted.

  He took a deep breath and withdrew his sword. Their enemy was upon them.

  Alys removed her helmet and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. She stared at the blood smeared across her, and the bodies strewn across the wasteland. They held their own, but they’d been fighting all day. She could see Niall along the other side of the battlefield, nearing Calipher. On the ridge, Sherwin continued with the archers. Alys lost sight of Ryce. They should signal for the second instalment of soldiers. It was their only play left.

  Swiping her sword back and forth to clear the way through the battlefield to her horse on the edge, she charged with renewed vigour.

  A horn sounded from the south, and a shuddering cry followed. Alys gasped and turned toward the noise, her mouth dropping in despair at the sight of a Shieldok army ascending upon them in their thousands. Calipher had truly made a deal with the devil.

  Oh God Almighty, help us!

  She had to get over to Niall. She ran over bodies and dodged a soldier stampeding toward her with his horse. A spear hurtled at her, and she blocked it with her shield, but the impact knocked her to the ground. She gasped as the force winded her lungs. Another warrior came at her—she pushed him away, span round and raised her sword. But he came at her again with his weapon. She tripped and dropped her blade. She turned to reach it but was suddenly grabbed from behind. Her helmet fell to the ground, and the warrior dragged her by the hair, picked up her sword and charged toward the Shieldok army.

  His grip was so tight, and her body so weary she couldn’t fight against the fierce warrior. Tears streamed at the intense pain and a panic arose within her as death was imminent.

  “Niall!” she screamed with all her might, but her voice was lost in the mayhem. Why had she been captured and not slain? Did Calipher want her alive?

  The man climbed on a horse, still with her tightly in his hold. She wriggled and struggled but to no avail. They charged forward, toward Calipher. Her head began to spin as she remembered she’d lost her helmet.

  The Lord is my salvation. The Lord is my salvation.

  They were mere strides away from Calipher. She only had moments to do something.

  A spear came toward her, she ducked and stabbed the man with her elbow. The spear hit his armour, but the blow sufficed to knock him off the horse. As he was falling, she grabbed her weapon from him—the blade slicing her hand. Ignoring the blood, she climbed properly on the horse and edged away from the warrior who’d tried to capture her. She turned her attention to Calipher, and to her horror, he was about to strike Niall.

  Alys raised her sword and charged toward them. She did not want to kill her uncle. Even he deserved mercy, but she could not let him take Niall’s life.

  Please God save us!

  Niall was closing in on him. He had him in his sight and the element of surprise. He dismounted and grabbed a spear. He could take Calipher down, in one swift movement.

  Out of the corner
of his eye, a Shieldok rider had Alys in a tight grip. He only a had a split-second to take action before Calipher turned around. Without hesitating, he flung his spear toward the rider, knocking him off the horse, but in doing so, alerted Calipher to his position.

  He blinked, Alys was all right, but now Calipher charged toward him. Where was his blade? He glanced around, desperately looking for something to defend himself with, but he had naught. Nothing but his own two hands. He stood, with feet apart, and braced for impact.

  As the horse came at him, he jumped to the side, and yanked at Calipher’s foot. It was enough to overturn him, and Calipher tumbled downward.

  Calipher withdrew his weapon and tapped his shield in mockery. “What are you doing, Niall?” he taunted. “I’m the one with the Sacred Sword. Why are you even trying to fight me? Do you think you’re God, that you can defeat me with your bare hands?” Calipher stormed toward him, and Niall dodged away. Calipher came at him again. And again. “It’s useless resisting. This just isn’t your destiny.”

  Niall exhaled, readying himself for the next blow. But as Calipher hurtled toward him, he flicked his hand up, jutting the man on the chin. Simultaneously, he kicked the sword from out of his grasp. Niall caught it before it fell to the ground, but it knocked him off balance. He spun round to stop himself from falling, as Alys plunged forward with her own sword poised and ready. He glanced back at Calipher.

  Don’t kill him.

  The conviction was so strong, as compelling as if it were a word from the Lord Himself.

  God help us.

  Instinctively, Niall raised his sword high, just as Alys lowered her own. The two blades met and clashed, and a surge of power ran through his entire body.

  Lightning penetrated the skies, thunder rumbled, and the earth shook. He looked up, frozen to his spot as if watching something from a dream. Hail fell, the size of ice rocks growing in size and number. The pellets began to cover the battlefield, destroying the Shieldok army who had only arrived.