by Rachel James
He jumped on Alys’s horse. “To higher ground!”
They galloped, up the pathway to the mountains, remarkably doing so as ice fell either side of them. As they reached the ridge, they met Sherwin and Ryce, and the rest of the archers.
“Can you believe this?” said Ryce. “The hail only falls in the valley.”
They stood in silence, watching the ground covered below them.
“Are our people all here?” asked Alys.
Sherwin nodded. “Most. We retreated before the storm began—we were fighting a losing battle down there.” Sherwin glanced at Niall’s hand. “Is that the Sacred Sword?”
Niall examined the Rivalyn crest and the sapphire stone in the handle. He stared at Alys in disbelief. “Did we do this?”
Alys came closer and held her own sword next to his. They matched, only his was much larger and heavier. She read the inscription, “A true blade wields peace and saves with faith.” She shook her head. “Nay. The Almighty did.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Hailstones covered the valley. “Check for survivors,” Alys commanded. They had won, but at what cost? They’d lost a substantial amount of Rivalyn soldiers.
Niall stood beside her. “God came through for us.”
She nodded. “He certainly did.” She surveyed the area. “What now?”
“We claim Ryvilla.”
Calipher and his men were bound and taken as captives, and the wounded piled on wagons for Sherwin to see to. They set off back to Ryvilla. Alys and Niall rode ahead just as snow began to fall, covering the blood spilt on the land. Was it a sign they had a fresh beginning? Alys hoped so. After everything that had happened.
They arrived at the palace in the early hours of the morning—the place had been left unattended. In the courtyard, Alys spotted Calipher tied up. She walked over to him and removed the cloth from his mouth. She sighed. “Why, Calipher? I looked up to you, learned from you.”
The man’s eyes looked dull and unrepentant. She couldn’t believe this was the same man who’d nurtured her from a child. Had it all been an act? “You have naught to say for yourself? You will be tried for your crimes, make no mistake about it.”
His silence irked her. Alys turned to the guards. “Strip him of his armour and take him to the cell. And while you’re there, make room. We’ll be bringing more to you from the battlefield.”
Niall walked around the battlements, running a last check that order was once again restored.
Ryce greeted him. “There are fifty captives in the cells, from what I can tell, most are Rivalyn citizens.”
“Did we find Bordan?”
“Only his crown amongst the hailstones. We can only assume he died with his troops. What will happen now, with his kingdom?”
Niall quirked his brow. “That I do not know. The southern realm was once one kingdom. Although I doubt the two brothers can resolve their differences enough to unite. I am just at peace that Alys has her rightful place as queen.”
“And you?”
“I will be staying here, my friend. There is naught left for me in Angularem. This is where I had a fresh start, I believe it was God-given. I finally do feel like I belong somewhere.”
Ryce nodded. “I understand. Teagen will be happy you’ve found some peace, although she’ll never forgive me for missing your wedding.”
Niall smiled at the thought. “Angularem is hers now. Mayhap one day I’ll pay you all a visit.”
Ryce patted him on the shoulder. “Being a king is part of who you are, you never stopped, regardless of whether you were ruling a kingdom. And look, you left Angularem as a king and came here as a wanderer. Now, you’re a king again.”
“King consort,” he corrected.
“What are titles anyway? You and Alys are both born rulers, and I think you’ll venture this together.” He shrugged. “It’s how Teagen and I do it. It might not be entirely conventional, but then, naught fun ever is.” He gave Niall a wink. “Now come, we’ve had a long day, I could use a meal.”
“Ah, then you are in good fortune, for I do believe we have a feast to go to.”
Alys washed away the dried blood caked to her skin with scented water, and relished in dressing in clean, feminine clothing once again. Through the looking glass, she saw her armour lying out. It sat next to Niall’s. She closed her eyes as she relived the events of the day before. She’d prayed with all her heart that God would rescue them, and deep down, she knew he would. But it was still a surprise to her, that he did so with the sword. In all honesty, she half wondered if it were a legend told to give her courage.
Niall walked in just as she was finishing up, and he stretched out on the bed. “Nice to be home.”
She smiled, and went over to him, snuggling into his warm embrace. “Aye, with you.”
“You will not make me stand outside and guard the door, will you?”
She tilted her head to see him. “Mmm, nay. I thought, considering recent events, I could do with having my guardian stay in my room...for protection,” she added.
Niall nodded. “I will have to put my foot down now, as I’m king consort and all.”
“Oh, and what’s that?”
“That I am your one and only guardian.”
She smiled. “You’re the only one I ever wanted.”
“Because I am so strong and capable?”
She reached and kissed him. “No, far shallower than that I’m afraid. Because, you are, unmistakably, the handsomest man I ever met.”
He nodded, seeming to ponder on it. “Well, I’m glad you agreed.”
“And why is that, so you could be a king again?”
He shook his head and stroked her hair away from her face. “Because you are the most beautiful woman I have ever known.”
Epilogue
The coronation took place on the first day of spring, three months after the battle of Baedu. At Alys’s request, both she and Niall were crowned together. Because of the lack of leadership in Dyrah and the other lesser Wealdic kingdoms, it would not be long before they would rule the entire northern realm. Shieldia sent no further troops to invade after Bordan’s army was wiped out. And Calipher? Well, after being sentenced to a lifetime of imprisonment, he ended his own life, in his gaol cell.
After the battle, the Wealdfolk returned to the Great Forest, but sent this time, as allies, not in opposition to the kingdom. The remaining guardians, however, were asked back to the palace to join the newly formed council. They had served the realm well, over the years, but Niall and Alys felt their wisdom would benefit the rulership of the new North.
Niall sat next to Alys at the table in the hall, and he welcomed all to the meeting.
“Girard, what do you have there?”
The old guardian looked up and passed the rolled-up parchment around the table.
Niall opened the scroll and paused. He looked at Alys, then back at the painting. He unravelled further until it took up over a yard.
Girard explained, “I needed to stay at Castraholm, as I wanted to copy the picture from the ceiling.”
Niall stared at the same mural he had viewed several months before. “This should go with your parents’ other treasures, Alys.”
“Ah, that is not Queen Aloedia.”
Alys screwed up her face. “It’s not?”
Girard rose from his seat and walked over to them. With a shaky hand, he pointed at the woman on the horse. “That is, you, your majesty.”
Niall examined the rider, wearing the royal armour, and then down at the other soldier, holding his sword to hers. “That is me?”
Girard dipped his head.
“But this was on your ceiling, before the battle happened.”
Girard nodded again.
“This was a prophecy?” asked Alys. “You knew this would happen?”
A smile formed on his lips. “I thought you might like it, to remind you of the Almighty’s power. It wasn’t part of your imagination. It was real. Just as real as you and m
e.”
Niall held the painting up to the light, astounded. “Thank you, Girard. But why didn’t you say anything to us?”
“You had to find your path on your own. We are just watchmen. We pray for what we see, and for the things which exist beyond our natural eyes. With God’s help, you are victorious. I hope this will remind you of that.”
After the meeting, Niall placed the picture outside their private chamber. He put his arm around Alys and pulled her close, planting a tender kiss on her forehead. “You know, now that we’ve had our coronation, and the council is re-established, I wonder if it’s time you and I went away. Our wedding was so rushed, we didn’t have any time to relish in it.”
“What did you have in mind?”
He shrugged. “We have the entire northern realm at our disposal. Although,” he grimaced, “naught to do with boats, rivers, seas, lakes...”
She laughed, her eyes sparkling. “Well, we can’t go far.” She rubbed her stomach. “I’m not sure I’m fit for too much travel.”
He glanced down at her hands covering her abdomen, then back to her face.
“You’re not—”
“Mmhm.”
He scooped her up and plopped her on the bed. “You must rest. I’ll get you some milk. Are you feeling all right? I’ll fetch the maid.”
She laughed again. “Sweetheart, the baby is not due for months. Besides, I’ve already seen the healer about it. All is well. Are you?” She searched his face, her brow wrinkling.
An abundance of love for her surfaced. “Aye, my love. I am pleased. You make me the happiest man alive. Not that I deserve it.”
She squeezed his hand and brought it up to her lips. “Oh, I think you do.”
About the Author
Rachel has an MA in Creative Writing from Teesside University and loves to write fiction that uplifts, inspires, and encourages others. She lives in Yorkshire with her husband and three adorable girls, and when not writing she enjoys idling time away in a vintage teashop or visiting a historic landmark in pursuit of a new story!
Discover more about Rachel at: www.rachelajames.com
Also by Rachel A. James
The Forgotten Kingdoms
Elmetia
Meigen
Rivalyn
A Beauwater Christmas (Novella)