“But something did happen!” Will demanded.
“Will, we were riding in narrow streets. We didn’t know our way, the horses had never been there,” Colin took a deep breath. “We lost Visra before we reached the woods. He didn’t turn down one of the streets we did and we couldn’t go back…I’m sorry, Will…”
Will stared at his two friends then at the fire in front of him. A dull ache was rising in his chest and he knew it wasn’t the broken rib. Visra had been as good as a friend. He and the horse were learning one another and, though Visra could be a handful, that was his horse. Never had he dreamed before becoming a squire that he could afford any horse, let alone one like Visra, and he had already lost him.
“He still might follow the knights out,” Rowan said, though his tone couldn’t hide his doubt.
Will forced himself to swallow. His throat felt tight. It was stupid to be this upset over a horse when his whole world had fallen apart tonight. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before forcing himself to smile at his two friends. “Well, he will probably throw some Thornten rider. If we are lucky, it’ll be Marl and he’ll break his neck.”
Rowan hissed like an angry cat. “I’d like to break that bastard’s neck and,” his voice drifted and he glanced at Will. “Sorry, I forget he’s your father…”
“The only time you need to apologize about anything to do with him is when you call him my father,” Will assured him, “I would kill him myself,” the words came out cold and hard and as if someone else had spoken them.
The three lapsed into silence. In a matter of hours, they had aged. No longer was the biggest concern getting back outside the walls, gaining some freedom. Will smiled slightly as he stared into the fire. There was such irony that, now, all they wanted was to return to the castle’s safety.
Out of the corner of his eye, Will saw the two horses tense and lift their heads, ears erect. Rowan and Colin sprang to their feet, each grabbing branches Will had assumed were to feed the fire. They held them across their chest in both hands as they had practiced with spears. Will hated spear practice but then, climbing to his feet, he wished he had the crudely made practice weapon even.
A shrill whinny cut the night air making all three boys startle. Will took a step back, having to jump to the side as his foot nearly landed in the fire. In the dim light thrown, a dark form appeared at the edge of the forest, steam rising from its flared nostrils as it took another step. Will would have recognized the broad blaze and white legs anywhere. “Visra!” the horse whinnied again and made to step forward before coming to an unnatural, jerking, halt.
The blood in Will’s veins ran cold as the horse pawed the ground, arching his neck in a way that he knew. Something or someone was stopping him. “Who’s there?” Colin demanded, his voice wavering only slightly.
The horse struck the ground again, another puff of white air blowing from his nose. His ears were pinned as the rider allowed him one step forward. In one hand the rider held the horse’s reins, in his other, he hefted a broad sword. His face was pale except for a thin line of bruising along his jaw. Blood spattered the white sleeves of his shirt and his eyes were shadowed in the firelight. Will didn’t need to see the man better to recognize him as well. His brown hair lay over his forehead and his defined cheekbones, already visible in his thin face, looked skeletal in the night.
“I don’t understand how three squires,” he said, his voice rasping, “can cause so much mayhem for either Alamore or Thornten.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Take one more step and I will bludgeon you to death,” Rowan snarled, crouching lower, the branch lifted.
The man stared at him as if trying to decide if he was joking. “You’ll what?”
“Bludgeon, you uneducated piece of-” Rowan started.
“That’s enough,” Colin cut Rowan off.
Will stared at Visra and silently begged the horse to misbehave. He was awful for so many skilled riders so why not right now? Please, Vis, he thought, just throw him. Rear backwards. Break the saddle or anything, but don’t listen to the enemy. You’re smarter than this…
The horse, as if hearing his thoughts, pinned his ears again and stamped his hoof.
“What do you want?” Colin asked. Will noticed that he still clutched his makeshift weapon in white-knuckled hands.
“Obviously to take us back to Thornten so Marl can kill Will and Tollien can pat his lapdog on the head and tell him he’s a good boy,” Rowan said, exasperatedly.
“I’m not Tollien’s lapdog,” the man snapped. His gaze shifted to Will and his jaw visibly tightened, “and I don’t care for an armed man beating a squire to death with the flat of his sword.”
“You don’t care to stop it either,” Will remarked.
The man raised his eyebrows. “Do I look moronic?”
“I’d love to answer that myself,” Rowan spat.
“And how long do you think it would have been until I was also being beaten to death or just killed instantly? I don’t care for Marl’s ways but I don’t care to die.”
“You haven’t tried it yet and I’d love to help you broaden your experiences,” Rowan grumbled.
“ROWAN!” Will and Colin both turned to him.
He shrugged; eyes still glued on the newcomer. “He hasn’t answered the question. He’s stalling. He’s on Will’s horse. We should just freaking kill the bastard.”
“He does have a point about the stalling,” Will said, turning to the man.
The man nodded and sheathed the sword, his movements slow and deliberate while he slid from Visra’s back and held his hands up and open at chest height. “Honestly,” he spoke in the same measured way that he moved. “I’ve been told to come out and find you. I’m the only one sent to ride alone because, right now, Marl has full intent to kill me and Tollien can’t stand the sight of me,” he couldn’t keep the pain out of his voice. “They will blame me for you three getting away, so I have two options. Die an outlaw in this frozen wasteland of a forest or bring you back,” he took a step toward them. Will saw his hand twitch.
Colin, equally aware, swung his branch wildly at the man, catching him in the stomach. The man grunted, doubling over. “You best plan to die out here then,” Colin snarled. “Because it will be over your dead body.”
He stared at them, eyes flashing. “Look, do you think I want to be in this spot? I’m the King’s squire! Do you honestly think I would care for how his brother acts? I preferred it when Marl was living on your side of the border, the whole country did. It was easiest when we were in the early stages of the tunnels, not having to deal with his temper and status.”
The clearing fell silent. More than the cold air was pressing on Will’s chest, making it impossible to breathe suddenly. “His what…?” Colin asked quietly. “Marl is Tollien’s brother?”
The man looked between them. “Yes, he’s been gone for years but he’s just come back and…” he turned to Will, “didn’t you know? Surely you did… that’s why they need you dead. You’ve gone to Alamore. You can’t survive now as an heir to Thornten,” none of them moved as the man’s hand drifted back toward his hilt. “It’s why it’s either I bring you back or they’ll hunt me for sport. I don’t want to do this but I don’t have a choice, I have to. The two of you can go back, but I have to bring him with me,” the sound of sword slithering from its scabbard made the hair on the back of Will’s neck rise.
“You do have a choice,” a voice snarled from the darkness behind them, “which is my sword through your stomach, boy.”
Ross lunged from the shadows before the younger man could fully brace. He barely had time to swing his blade up, parrying away the blow from Ross’s sword. The crash of the two weapons was deafening as the boy made to strike and Ross struck it away without missing a beat. The two moved in a dance of blocking and attacking; the Thornten squire never gaining another opening to kill the Alamore knight. Each step backwards from the younger man made him less steady until he was stumb
ling, halfway falling, trying to rise. Ross raised his foot and kicked him, hard, in the chest.
The Thornten squire sprawled in the snow, his sword flying from his hands, landing several feet away. Colin didn’t hesitate, dropped the branch he held and rushed to snatch the weapon out of the snow. Ross’s face was dark with fury as he lowered the tip of his sword to the squire’s throat.
“You’d be better working on your footwork outside of the pretty courtyards. The real world isn’t that smooth,” Ross commented to the squire, for all the world like it was a lesson back at the castle. His expression remained unchanged though, anger radiating off of him in a palpable wave.
“Ross, check on the squires,” Laster was pushing his way into the light, snarling as branches caught at his clothing, “I’ll get him bound. We don’t have time to piss off Thornten further by killing him here.”
Ross hesitated, clearly torn between holding his hostage and tending to Colin and the other two. Will heard more footsteps and Miller and Rockwood appeared as well. Their clothing was dark with drying blood but the two of them were grinning at the squires and the scene before them.
“This is a quaint place for a night away from home,” Rockwood commented. “Miller, you ought to bring a lady friend here sometime and sing her something. Then again, I’ve heard you sing, so perhaps just sit in uncomfortable silence. It will increase your odds of seducing her.”
Miller made a swipe at Rockwood who easily sidestepped away. Their presence, at last, was enough for Ross to nod to Laster and step away from the Thornten squire. “Colin, don’t lay that sword down anywhere. It goes with us. Rowan, drop the damn branch and put some snow on your eye. It’ll reduce the swelling,” he turned to Will, lifting his sword to sheath it.
The firelight caught the hilt, reflecting off the blue stone set into the simple metal. Will’s side throbbed as he stared at it, his head felt light, and the ground rushed up to meet his knees.
“Did he get you, Will?” Ross bent down in front of him and shook his shoulders gently. “Will!”
Will shook his head, his eyes locked on the blue hilt. “Your sword…Marl had it…”
“Yes,” Ross said and grimaced. “But I wasn’t leaving it again. Especially not in Marl’s possession.”
“Marl…he’s Tollien’s brother…” Will closed his eyes. “He’s Tollien’s brother….my father is the brother of the King of Thornten,” Ross stiffened. The clearing fell silent again. In front of him, Ross was not moving at all, his face impossible to read, his eyes overly bright with emotions.
“Brother of the King or not,” Laster said, breaking the silence at last, “Marl will taste the steel of an Alamore blade someday. And I hope I’m at least there to see him die. Miller, close your damn jaw and get over here, we have a guest to take back to Alamore for safekeeping.”
Someone else stepped into Will’s line of sight beside Ross and crouched down. In the night, with the dim fire, it was only possible to see the shadow of a face beneath the black hood. “Well,” the Ranger said softly, shaking his head, “not how I ever thought this would happen,” he gripped Ross’s shoulder tightly. “Both of you should pull it together. We aren’t safe out here. We need to get back to Alamore.”
“I shouldn’t go back,” Will whispered, staring under the hood. He couldn’t see anything of the Ranger’s face in the dark. “I’m a danger to Alamore…I’m a Thornten…I’m related to the King of Thornten.”
The Ranger’s head tipped downwards for a moment before he lifted it again. His voice was almost impossible to hear. “As am I, Will. Not many know that Tollien has more than one brother.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The sky in the east was lightening, the horses exhausted, each rider shivering as they broke through the trees at last. They had moved slowly, cautious not to make too much noise. Several times they had heard other riders, further off, with the distant baying of hounds. At a river, the Ranger had urged his mare into the freezing, rushing, water while leading Visra, the Thornten squire, bound and gagged, slung over the saddle. The water had frozen along their cloak hems, boots, stirrup irons, and the legs of their mounts.
None of them spoke as the trees thinned, giving way to more paths, more space, and the shadowed form of the castle set against the snow. For the first time, Will felt uncertain as he stared at the walls, holding the front of Ross’s saddle as the knight, on the ground, led the stallion the last leg of the journey. There was no rush of excitement, no thundering in his chest. The walls, which had symbolized so many dreams and hopes for his entire life, now looked as cold as the snow-covered stone that built them. He squeezed his exhausted eyes shut and inhaled the sharp air. What if the King, on finding out who he was, dismissed him from being a squire? Or, worse, kept him to barter with Thornten for prisoners. Then again, with Marl’s hatred, King Revlan of Alamore could just kill him, feeling him untrustworthy and useless.
He stared at the castle, unfeeling, as it drew nearer. When the group reached the drawbridge, Sir Laster bellowed at the porter to lower the bridge. Rowan, Colin, the Ranger, and the prisoner were the first to cross, their horses’ hooves echoing over the wood. Laster, Miller, and Rockwood followed behind them, Sir Miller slumping forward, exhausted, as he passed Will and Ross.
Ross hesitated, holding back the large paint stallion. He looked up at Will, his face shadowed in the early dawn light.
“I’ll escort you to the healing chambers when we get inside,” Ross’s voice cracked from hours of silence. Clearing his throat, he continued. “I’ll have them give you something to make you sleep and for the pain. When you are awake, we will discuss this.”
“What’s going to happen to me?” Will whispered.
The knight furrowed his brow, looking confused for a moment.
“You’ll rest, heal, and continue training,” his growl returned to his voice, “And I will make damn sure that I am there the day you become a knight.”
Will stared at him. “The King won’t allow-”
Ross cut him off. “Our King is not Tollien. He will not base your loyalty on your bloodlines so long as you don’t either. Now, that’s enough of your nonsense. You are getting to the healer because you’re falling apart. You know, you’re too young to be breaking this many bones,” before Will could respond, Ross spun round and led the tired horse after the others.
Will didn’t have long to think over Ross’s words before Rowan, Colin, and Ross were reaching up to help him slide from the saddle. The pain of the movement drove all else temporarily from his mind. He didn’t protest as Rowan and Colin, on either side, supported him to the healing chambers. Once laying in the bed, he heard the healer mutter about making a concoction to help him sleep. He didn’t know if the man ever did, because he fell asleep as soon as his head settled against the pillow.
***
Over the next few days, the other squires came and went, wanting details of their capture and time imprisoned by Thornten. Vancely paled as Colin explained that Will had been beaten with the flat of a sword. Loper swore and was quickly told off by the healer when he saw the bruising that had swollen Rowan’s eye shut.
The three squires didn’t mention that it had been Will’s father who had beaten him, breaking his rib and causing what the healer suspected to be light fracturing to his left arm. None of them discussed what they had learned of Will’s lineage. Whenever a knight entered to see Will, he tensed, sure that he would be under a withering gaze or questioned but they, like the squires, didn’t seem to know. The only people who gave Will knowing looks were those who had been in the forest beside him when he’d found out for himself. It felt like most of the castle was in the healing chamber around the clock to hear what they had encountered and lived through, except for Sir Ross, the Ranger, and the King.
“You know,” Rowan commented, pulling the sheets from his bed, “we could sneak you out of here,” it had been a week and Will, stiff but restless, was watching as both of his friends were preparing to move back t
o the squire quarters. Rowan had faked a stomach ache and Colin a sore throat to stay an extra three days. The healer had caught on and informed them that they could take care of preparing their beds for others as punishment.
Will’s smile felt underused and strained. “I appreciate it but it’s probably best I stay here for a bit. Broken bones don’t feel great to move.”
Colin grimaced, lightly touching the thin line of stitches above his eye. “I can’t say as I blame you. Ross won’t be pleased with how out of shape I’ve become.”
Will looked at his hands in his lap. Ross had said he’d have more of the truth and still hadn’t even come to visit. “Yeah, I’m getting out of shape myself. I was told another three weeks until I should ride,” he balled his hands into fists, released them, and looked at his friends again. “Would you mind working Visra sometimes? I don’t want him murdering me when I can start riding again.”
Ranger of Kings (William of Alamore Series Book 1) Page 21