Farrell walked over to his adopted brothers and opened his arms wide.
“Brothers, may we speak?”
The peregrines each extended a wing, wrapped it around Farrell, and bowed their heads. Inside the warmth of his brothers’ embrace, much of his irritation disappeared.
“Brothers, these are allies. Puffing and posturing won’t help if we need to fight side by side in the near future.”
“They drew weapons on us first.” Takala’s petulant words made Farrell shake his head.
“So because they are ignorant you feel the need to match their behavior? What would Father say if he knew you were debasing yourself to the ranks of common human soldiers?”
Grohl’s wings twitched, and Farrell glanced up. He couldn’t see his brother’s eyes, but he knew Grohl could see him. After a moment, Grohl relaxed. “Your point is well taken.”
“Glad that’s settled.” He scratched the tuft along the side of Grohl’s head and repeated the act on Takala. “Have no worries, brothers, there will be plenty of chances to bring glory to Father’s name.”
Penelope stormed toward him just as the peregrines released Farrell from their embrace. A frown crossed her brow, and she looked fit to spit fire.
“That jackass Werthan set an ‘honor guard’ outside the embassy to guide us to the borders.”
Farrell’s chuckle earned him a glare. “Princess, where’s your sense of humor? This will be a very short escort, indeed.” He looked directly at his brothers. “These are not allies, brothers.”
Grohl and Takala rose up to their full height and puffed out their considerable chests.
“This honor guard of theirs will be only too happy to let us slip away once they behold the sons of Rothdin.” Takala snapped his beak shut.
“Why do you encourage them?” Miceral asked.
“I didn’t.” He followed Penelope out a large oaken door. The walk to the front of the embassy was short. Before the Dumbarten guards opened the gates, everyone mounted.
Grohl and Takala assumed the point, their feathers stuck up in a way Farrell had learned meant they were excited. He knew Miceral stared at him, but he didn’t look over.
When the gates opened, Farrell watched the Jerdish soldiers in their red-and-gold uniforms snap to attention. They’d been standing beside their mounts in the hot, humid weather that gripped the city despite the early morning hour.
When the two eight-foot-tall peregrines walked through the gate, it spooked the Jerdish horses. Klissmor did not wait for them to regain control of their mounts before he led them east.
Jerdas reminded Farrell of Glaston—dirty, slightly rundown, but with a hint that once the place had been prosperous. People gave way at their approach, but it slowed their progress as Farrell told his brothers not to harm anyone.
“Nerti.” Farrell twisted until he could see their escorts. The Jerdish soldiers had closed the gap between the two parties. “Once we clear the gate, those fools are going to kill their horses trying to keep up with us. Can’t you make them break off?”
“I already told them to slow down and turn aside.” Her tone told him all he needed to know. “Their riders have other ideas.”
“Perhaps if you tell the soldiers if they don’t stop, I’ll turn them into fat little rabbits and personally feed them to my brothers, that will have better results.”
Nerti’s laugh made him smile despite his serious mood. “Your brothers would never eat such corrupted meat.”
“The soldiers don’t know that.”
“Very true,” Nerti said. “But I think if I tell them you said that, it might cause a diplomatic incident. Let me see what I can do. Werthan won’t be able to lodge a protest against me.”
They continued to ride, and Farrell wondered if he might not need to ask his brothers to do something if Nerti couldn’t fix it. Nerti tensed beneath his legs, and an instant later, a soldier behind them shouted. When he turned his head, he saw the riders slow down and peel off.
“What did you say to them?”
“I told them I was irritated by their foolish attempt to keep pace with us. And because they didn’t seem to care that they might cause the death of one or more of the Holy Mother’s horses, we are forced to restrain our pace to prevent such an occurrence.”
“That worked?” Farrell snuck another glance backward to be sure they’d actually broken off the chase.
“Of course not. When one of them told me he had his orders, I told everyone if they didn’t stop riding after us, I was going to turn around and gore soldiers in the most painful of places until everyone let us be and went home.”
Before he could stop himself, Farrell dropped a hand to his groin. Not that it would have stopped a unicorn horn. “I can see how that would make them stop. It worked, so that is what counts most.”
They made it to the gate without further incidents. The guards held people back as the two peregrines led the way out of the city. Once clear of the stone walls, Grohl and Takala took to the air. Klissmor assumed the point and increased his speed. Farrell and Peter assumed positions to the left and right respectively of Penelope, and their journey began in earnest.
It required over an hour to leave the more settled areas, but as the cluster of homes gave way to orderly farmsteads and well-tended fields, Klissmor ran even faster. The blistering pace created a cool wind that helped offset the hot, humid air that caused sweat to drip down Farrell’s back. He toyed with the idea of using a cooling spell, but he refrained, knowing Miceral and Peter couldn’t do the same.
In many of the fields that flashed by in a blur, men and women stopped working and stared at them. No doubt tales of the day four unicorns rode east on the western trade route would be told for years, and the number of people who claimed to have personally witnessed the event would exceed those who actually did.
Farrell leaned forward and enjoyed the sensation of Nerti’s powerful muscles propelling them forward. He almost laughed with joy at the thrill of racing past rolling hills and ripening fields of crops. The wind on his face whipped his hair behind him as Nerti’s hooves pounded their rhythmic beat. Songs about the wonders of riding a unicorn didn’t do justice to the experience.
“Can’t you pull us forward like you did when we rode to Northhelm, Wizard?” Nerti’s voice broke his daydream, and he nearly missed the playful lilt in her tone as she dredged up the annoying way she’d addressed him when they first met.
He laughed, still intoxicated by the excitement of the moment. “No, Unicorn, I cannot. There are too many of us. The effort would tire me after just a few attempts. If one of you was off pace by even a fraction of a step, we’d all end up in different places.”
He left out that his brothers couldn’t be included and would have to strain to keep up.
“Then we shall have to make do with what speed we four can manage.”
He detected a note of frustration in her voice. Seritia’s conditions thwarted them at every turn. With ideal conditions, the unicorns could cover 250 miles or more a day. Much of their route, however, would be less than ideal, and there were borders to cross before they reached the wide-open prairies of central Lourdria. Klissmor estimated it would take ten days to reach Agloth. To cover such distance in so short a time would thrill most any pilgrim, but Farrell felt the press of time acutely.
Just after the sun reached its zenith, they stopped for a short break. Farrell retrieved the food and water from an endless pocket and made sure the unicorns had enough to eat and drink before he joined the others for a meal. He arrived in the middle of a spirited conversation.
“We’re not sneaking across borders,” Penelope said to Miceral. “Not only would it create a headache for my nephew, but it would draw undue attention to us if we’re found out.”
“We won’t be discovered if you and Farrell hide us.” Miceral took a small bite of the cold chicken on his plate. “It will save us time if we don’t need to announce ourselves every few hundred miles.”
“T
he time saved would be minimal.” Penelope glared at Miceral as he continued to eat. “Since we’re trying to convince people I’m on a pilgrimage to Agloth, we need to act the part. As a princess of Dumbarten, I would not cross the borders without permission.”
“In Belsport it is said that ‘proper decorum goes a long way toward reaching an accord,’” Peter said, drawing everyone’s attention. “At least that is what my father taught me.”
“Your father’s right, Peter.” Farrell tore a hunk of bread apart and placed several pieces of meat between the two sides. “The time saved won’t be worth the headache, and we have more than sufficient supplies to make three trips to Agloth and back.”
“Fine.” Miceral picked up a flagon of water and stood up. “Let’s finish eating and get back on the road.”
Farrell wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Is it always this hot in this part of the world?”
“Just wait.” Penelope spun her finger over her cup, and ice formed on the top of her water. “It will get hotter the farther we go inland.”
“Are you joking?”
“No, dear. Until you get on the other side of the desert, the cooling winds from the east are all but nonexistent.” She finished her drink and stood up. “Seritia wanted to be certain only those who understood fully the work true love required would come to Her seeking Her blessing.”
“Wonderful.” He took another bite and washed it down with cool water.
He and Peter quickly finished eating, and the small group set out again. To make the best time possible, they stuck to the main road. Grohl and Takala stayed slightly ahead, prepared to alert the riders if they saw someone on the road. With the sun at their backs, they approached the border of Jerdam and Utremth.
Four red-and-gold-clad soldiers sought shelter in a small building. All the doors and windows were open, but they still seemed uncomfortable. A large, walled fort with two tall towers occupied a small crest about a thousand yards north of the road. The four soldiers stood slack-jawed as the four rode up. Finally, one blinked and barked an order. Farrell spotted a column of riders coming from the fort.
“Guess they noticed us,” Miceral said.
They maintained their formation around Penelope, and the three armored knights formed a protective “V” around the princess. Miceral, with his back straight, stared ahead as the party slowed to a stop before the guards. “Penelope, daughter of the House of Hevnor and princess of Dumbarten, seeks permission to leave the lands of the most noble Werthan, King of Jerdam.” Miceral’s voice boomed loud enough for the Utremthian soldiers across the border to hear him.
“Welcome, Your Highness.” The guard barely bowed and only glanced up once at the riders. He and the other soldiers kept their gazes fixed on the unicorns. “Our commander, Baron Henric, rides to bid you all welcome and ensure you safe passage. Please make yourselves comfortable.”
“We will remain as we are,” Penelope said.
Farrell’s brothers had split up and made a wide arc around the group on the ground. No doubt they intended a memorable entrance. The silence lingered for a few more moments before he heard their approach. Dirt whipped around them, and the soldiers shouted in surprise. When two of the guards drew weapons, Klissmor stepped closer.
“Unless it is your wish to offend the Sky Father, it would be advisable to put up your swords.”
The Jerdish guards looked even more uncertain despite the warning. Farrell readied a spell to keep them away from his brothers, hoping he wouldn’t need it. The longer the soldiers kept their weapons out, the more his brothers would feel their honor required a more forceful response. If they hadn’t tried to swoop in “impressively,” this wouldn’t have happened.
“I told Rothdin they were too immature to be trusted with this mission.” Nerti’s annoyance mirrored Farrell’s. “Someone will need to address their behavior.”
The “someone” she referred to meant Farrell and only reinforced why he’d wanted to leave everyone besides Nerti, Klissmor, and Miceral back in Dreth.
“I’ll talk to them later. If I embarrass them now, they’ll be more difficult to deal with.”
“Agreed, but you need to do it when we stop for the night.”
“I know.”
“Put those swords away. Now!” The command came from a tall man leading the column of soldiers from the castle.
Sitting casually on his horse, the man scanned the group, lingering occasionally before moving on. The way he took in the situation reminded Farrell of Wilhelm. He slowed his men and assumed a position in front of the small party. His mount appeared slightly skittish this close to the two peregrines.
“Blessed are the favored of our Holy Mother Lenore.” The man bowed in Klissmor’s direction “I am Henric, Baron of Telth and commander of his majesty’s army in the east. In the name of my cousin, King Werthan, I greet you.”
“Greetings, Baron Henric.” Miceral bowed as if greeting an equal. “May I present the Princess Penelope of Dumbarten.”
Penelope rode forward. “Hello, Henric. What sin did you commit to get banished to the edge of the kingdom?”
Henric’s smile was the first crack in the man’s stoic expression. “Your Highness. It is my pleasure to greet you again. It has been almost thirty years since I last visited Dreth, and you still look the same as you did the day I arrived. Unfortunately, time has been less kindly to me.”
“Nonsense. You are still a handsome man worthy of any lady’s hand, though I assume you have married and sired a few heirs by now.”
“My wife and four children reside at our manor a few miles from here.” He nodded. “To answer your first question, Werthan did not banish me. I grew weary of the foolish nature of court life. Too many petty intrigues for my liking. My job is here, guarding our eastern borders. No hidden meaning to this, no veiled messages for me to miss.”
“A pity,” Penelope said. “Jerdam would be better served with you as its king.”
“My lady!” His protest did not sound sincere. “To speak such words is treason. My cousin values my counsel and has appointed me commander of our eastern army. I am far happier not to have the burden of leadership.”
“I always knew you were a wise man.” Penelope bowed her head slightly. “Though I would enjoy a visit to catch up with you, I do not have time. I am bound for the temple of Seritia in Agloth and may not tarry overlong with personal business.”
“Then I must have your word you will come visit when you’re free from your duties or else I shall not authorize your departure.”
“You’re still an outrageous flirt despite knowing I’m unattainable.”
“As does my dear wife, so I need not fear any adverse reaction from her if my actions somehow make it back to her.”
Miceral snorted softly, and the baron shifted his gaze toward the sound for a moment, then returned his attention to Penelope. “You need better help. This guard greeted me as an equal and now feels it appropriate to be part of our conversation.”
The corner of Penelope’s lips twitched up for a moment, and she raised an eyebrow. “All is never as it seems with me or my family. I thought you learned that during your stay.”
Henric stared blankly at the princess for a moment. Once he blinked, he reexamined his guests. “Have I offended anyone?”
She smiled widely and shook her head. “No, Henric. If you have, you’d like as not have felt the end of a unicorn horn somewhere you would not enjoy.”
His eyes opened wider for an instant, but once he recovered, Henric turned and bowed his head respectfully to Miceral before addressing Penelope again. “Now you must swear to return when you’re able. This is a tale I’m most anxious to hear.”
“Gladly would I return, but you may need to come visit me in Dreth if you would like an answer anytime soon.”
“I’ll take that as a personal invitation.”
“Please do. My regards to your wife and family.” The polite nod and choice of words indicated she’d finished this audie
nce.
“You may experience a bit of difficulty with the garrison across the way.” Henric motioned for his men to move aside. “Duke Edwen is not so content being kept away from court. He is not a pleasant man to deal with.”
“If he does not wish to be eaten, he will not hinder our progress.” Takala’s warning caused Henric and his men to search for the speaker. Farrell hitched a thumb over his shoulder and the air moved as his brother adjusted his wings.
“A pity I can’t be there to watch that exchange.” The baron snapped to attention, and Miceral led them toward Utremth’s border.
“You may not be able to wait until the end of the day to speak to them.” Nerti’s words echoed Farrell’s thought.
“I know.” He wondered again what he’d done to Seritia that She tormented him in this way. “If we need to speak to anyone else before we rest for the day, I’ll deal with them before we stop.”
Beyond the Jerdish checkpoint, soldiers in the orange-and-white of Utremth stood at full attention. At the head of the troops, a fat, balding man dressed in fine clothes sat uncomfortably on a roan mare. He peered across the zone, barking orders to the men behind him. Farrell was instantly reminded of King Corvis of Respital. “Worthless pile of horse turds” was how Jursten described the man. Looking at Duke Edwen, Farrell worried he might need to speak to his brothers even sooner than expected.
Chapter Four
They rode for several hours after leaving a scared and chastised Duke Edwen. Farrell’s brothers were content to let Penelope handle the obnoxious noble. Edwen was only too happy to hurry them on their way after the princess threatened to flay the skin from the man right after her nephew declared war on Utremth for his insulting manners. Farrell thought Edwen had soiled his britches when she told him that once Dumbarten conquered Utremth, she would see to it that King Markus give his dukedom to Najan as a gift.
The exchange buoyed his mood for the rest of the day. It even helped him when he spoke to his brothers about reining in their bravado. Instead of the angry exchange he anticipated, he kept the conversation almost jovial.
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