The Guardian
The oak clenched the earth with a massive hand of gnarled roots unchanged by time. In the village, houses were lost to fires. New homes were built to accommodate growing families and barns were raised on once vacant land, but on this hill time stood as still as the depths of Gutaria Prison. Standing beneath its leaves, Hadrian felt young again.
It was at this tree that Haddy first kissed Arbor, the shoemaker's daughter. He and Dunstan competed for her favor for years, but Haddy kissed her first. That's what started the fight. Dun knew better. He had seen Haddy spar with his father and witnessed Haddy beat the old reeve for whipping Willie, a villein friend of theirs. The reeve was too embarrassed to report to the bailiff that a fourteen-year-old boy bested him. Haddy's skill was no secret to Dunstan, but rage overcame reason.
When Dunstan found out about Arbor he charged at Haddy, who instinctually sidestepped and threw him to the ground. Misfortune landed Dun's head on a fieldstone. He lay unconscious with blood running from his nose and ears. Horrified, Haddy carried him back to the village, convinced he just killed his best friend. Dun recovered, but Haddy never did. He never spoke to Arbor again. Three days later, the boy known as Haddy was gone for good.
Hadrian slumped to the ground and sat in the shade of the tree with his back to the old oak's trunk. As a boy, this is where he always came to think. From here, he could see the whole village below and the hills beyond-hills that had called to him, and a horizon that whispered of adventure and glory.
Royce and Arista would be wondering where he went. It was not like him to be self-indulgent on the job. The job! He unconsciously shook his head. It was Royce's job not his. He kept his bargain, and all that remained was for Arista to reach the rendezvous. When she did, that would end the assignment and his career in the world of intrigue. Strange how the end brought him back to the beginning. Coming full circle could be a sign for him to make a fresh start.
He could see the smithy near the center of the village. It was easy to pick out by the black smoke rising. He had worked those bellows for hours each day. He remembered the sound and the ache in his arms. It was a time when all he knew of the world stopped at this tree, and Hadrian could not help but wonder how his life might have been if he had stayed. One thing was certain; he would have more calluses and less blood on his hands.
Would I have married Arbor? Have children of my own? A stout, strong son who would complain about working the bellows and come to this tree to kiss his first girl? Could I have found contentment making ploughshares and watching Da smile as he taught his grandson fencing, like a commoner's version of the Pickerings? If I had stayed, at this very moment, would I be sitting here thinking of my happy family below? Would Da have died in peace?
He sighed heavily. Regret was a curse without a cure, except to forget. He closed his eyes. He did not want to think. He fell asleep to the sound of songbirds and woke to the thunder of horses' hooves.
It was almost dark and Royce was worried. Once more, they enjoyed the hospitality of the Bakers. Arbor was making a dinner of pottage while Dunstan ran a delivery of loaves to the manor. Arista offered assistance, but appeared more a hindrance than a help. Arbor did not seem to mind. The two were inside chatting and laughing while Royce stood outside, watching the road with an uneasy feeling.
The village felt different to him. The evening had an edge, a tension to the air. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked. He felt a nervous energy in the trees and an apprehension rising from the earth and rock. Before Avempartha, he considered it intuition, now he wondered. Elves drew power from nature. They understood the river's voice and the chatter of the leaves.
Had that passed to me?
He stood motionless, his eyes panning the road, shops, houses, and the dark places between. He was hoping to spot Hadrian returning, but felt something else.
"The cabbage goes in last," Arbor was telling Arista, her voice muffled by walls. "And cut it up into smaller pieces than that. Here let me show you."
"Sorry," Arista said. "I don't have a lot of experience in a kitchen."
"It must be wonderful to have servants. Dun could never make that much money here. There aren't enough people to buy his bread."
Royce focused on the street. The sun had set and the twilight haze had begun to mask the village. He was looking at the candlemaker's shop when he spotted movement by the livery. When he looked closer, nothing was there. It could have been Hobbie coming to check the animals, but the fact that the image vanished so quickly made him think otherwise.
Royce slipped into the shadows behind Armigil's brew shop and crept toward the livery. He entered from the rear, climbing to the loft. A fresh pile of hay cushioned his movements and muted his approach. In the dark, he could clearly see the back of a figure standing by the doorway, peering at the street.
"Move and die," Royce whispered softly in his ear. The man froze.
"Duster?"
Royce turned the man to face him. "Etcher, what are you doing here?"
"The meeting has been set. I've been sent to fetch you."
"That was fast."
"We got word back this morning and I rode hard to get here. The meeting is set for tonight at the ruins of Amberton Lee. We need to get going if we are going to make it in time."
"We can't leave right now. Hadrian is missing."
"We can't wait. Gaunt's people are suspicious-they think it could be an imperial trap. They'll back off if we don't stick to the plan. We need to leave now or the opportunity will pass."
Royce silently cursed to himself. It was his own fault for not chasing after Hadrian this afternoon. He almost had. Now there was no telling where he was. Etcher was right-the mission had to come first. He would leave word for Hadrian with the Bakers and get the princess to her meeting with Gaunt.
The moist, steamy smell of the boiling cabbage and wood smoke filled the bakery. The candles Arista lit flickered with the opening of the door. Arbor was stirring the pot while Arista set the table. Both looked up startled.
"Hadrian hasn't shown?"
"No," Arista replied.
"We need to get going," Royce told her.
"Now? But what about Hadrian?"
"He'll have to catch up. Get your things."
Arista hesitated only a moment, and then crossed to the flour storage to gather her bags.
"Can't you even stay for dinner?" Arbor asked. "It's almost ready."
"We need to get moving, we have a-" Royce stopped as he heard the noisy approach of a horse and cart being driven fast down the road. It stopped just out front, so close they could hear the driver pull the hand-break. Dunstan came through the door a moment later.
"Hadrian's been arrested!" he announced hurriedly, and then he pointed at Royce and Arista. "The steward ordered your arrests as well."
"Their arrests?" Arbor said shocked. "But why?"
"The bailiff was wrong. It looks like Luret has more influence than he thought," Royce muttered. "Let's get the horses."
"His lordship's soldiers were just behind me as I started down the hill. They will be here in minutes," Dunstan said.
"My horse is down by the river," Etcher said. "It can carry two."
Royce was thinking quickly, calculating risk and outcome. "You take her to the rendezvous on your horse then," he told Etcher. "I'll see what I can do to help Hadrian. With any luck, we'll catch up to you. If we don't, it shouldn't matter." He looked at Arista. "From what I've heard of your contact, he will see to your safety even if he ultimately declines your offer."
"Don't worry about me." The princess rushed toward the door with her bags. "I'll be fine, just see that Hadrian is okay." Taking a bag and the princess' hand, Etcher pulled her out into the night and dodged into the shadows of the buildings.
Royce followed them out, caught hold of the eaves and climbed up on the Bakers' shake roof, where he crouched in the shadow of the chimney, listening. From the direction of the manor, Royce watched half a dozen men with torches moving fast down the main street. They stopped first at the livery then went to the Bakers.
"Where are the strangers that rode in with the old blacksmith's son?" a loud voice he had not heard before demanded.
"They left hours ago," Dunstan replied.
Royce heard a grunt and a crash followed by a scream from Arbor and the sound of furniture falling over.
"Their horses are still in the livery. We saw you race from the manor to warn them! Now where are they?"
"Leave him alone!" Arbor shouted. "They ran out when they heard you coming. We don't know where. They didn't tell us anything."
"If you're lying, you'll be arrested for treason and hanged, do you understand?"
There was a brief silence.
"Fan out in pairs. You two cover the bridge. You and you search the fields and you two start going door to door. Until further notice, all citizens of Hintindar are to remain in their homes. Arrest anyone outside. Now move!"
The men scattered out of the bakery in all directions, marked conveniently by their flaming torches, leaving Royce to watch them scurrying about. He glanced across the fields. It was dark. Etcher would have no trouble avoiding the foot search. Once they reached his horse, they would be gone. Arista was safely on her way, his job done. All he had to worry about now was Hadrian.
The manor house's jail was less a dungeon and more an old well. Forced to descend by a rope, Hadrian was left trapped at the bottom. He waited in silence, looking up at the stars. The rising moon cast a shaft of pale light that descended the wall, marking the slow passage of the night.
Cold spring water seeped in through the walls, leaving them damp and creating a shallow pool at the base. With his feet tiring, Hadrian eventually sat in the cold puddle. Jagged rocks hidden under the water added to his misery. In time, he was forced to stand again to fight the cold.
The moonlight was more than halfway down the wall when Hadrian heard voices and movement from above. Dark silhouettes appeared and the iron grate scraped as it slid clear. A rope lowered and Hadrian thought they had reconsidered. He stood up to take hold of it, but stopped when he saw another figure coming down.
"In ya go," someone at the top ordered and laughed, his voice echoed. "We keep all our rats down there!"
The figure was nimble and descended quickly.
"Royce?" Hadrian asked. "They-they captured you?"
The rope flew up and the grate slid back.
"More or less," he replied, glancing around. "Not much on accommodations, are they?"
"I can't believe they caught you."
"It wasn't as easy as you'd think. They aren't very bright." Royce reached out and let his fingers run over the glistening walls. "Was this just a well that went dry?"
"Hintindar doesn't have much need for a big prison." Hadrian shook his head. "So you let them capture you?"
"Ingenious don't you think?"
"Oh-brilliant."
"I figured it was the easiest way to find you." Royce shuffled his feet in the water, grimacing. "So what's your excuse? Did they come for you with an army of twenty heavily armored men?"
"They caught me sleeping."
Royce shot him a skeptical look.
"Let's just say I was put in a position where I'd have to kill people and I chose not to. This is my home, remember. I don't want to be known as a killer here."
"So it is good I didn't slit throats. I'm smarter than I thought."
"Oh yes, I can see the genius in your plan." Hadrian looked up. "How do you suggest we get out now?"
"Eventually, Luret will haul us out and hand us over to a press gang just as he threatened. We'll serve in the Imperial Army for a few days, learn what we can, and then slip away. We can report what we discover to Alric for an added bonus."
"What about Arista?"
"She's safely on her way to the rendezvous with Gaunt. Etcher arrived just before dark and I sent her with him. She'll likely stay with Gaunt, sending messages back to Melengar via runners until Alric's forces join with the Nationalists."
"And if Gaunt turns her down?"
"It's in Gaunt's best interest to see to her safety. It's not like he's going to turn her over to the Empire. She'll probably end up returning to Melengar by sea. Actually, it's better we aren't with her. If Merrick is out there, I am sure he'll be more interested in me than her. So that job is complete."
"I guess there is that to be thankful for at least."
Royce chuckled.
"What?"
"I'm just thinking about Merrick. He'll have no idea where I am now. My disappearance will drive him crazy."
Hadrian sat down.
"Isn't that water cold?" Royce asked, watching him and making an unpleasant face.
He nodded. "And the bottom has sharp rocks coated in a disgusting slime."
Royce looked up at the opening once more then gritted his teeth and slowly eased himself down across from Hadrian. "Oh yeah, real comfortable."
They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the breeze flutter across the grating. It made a humming noise when it blew just right. Occasionally a droplet of water would drip into the pool with a surprisingly loud plop! magnified by the stone.
"You realize that with this job over, I am officially retired."
"I assumed as much." Royce fished beneath him, withdrew a rock, and tossed it aside.
"I was thinking of staying here. Maybe Grimbald could use a hand, or Armigil. She's getting older now and probably would welcome a partner. Those barrels can be heavy and brewing beer has its perks."
Moonlight revealed Royce's face. He looked tense.
"I know you're not happy with this, but I really need a change. I'm not saying I'll stay here. I probably won't, but it's a start. I consider it practice for a peaceful life."
"And that's what you want, a peaceful life? No more dreams of glory?"
"That's all they were, Royce, just dreams. It's time I faced that and got on with my life."
Royce sighed. "I have something to tell you. I should have told you a long time ago, but-I guess I was afraid you'd do something foolish." He paused. "No, that's not true either. It's just taken me awhile to see that you have the right to know."
"Know what?"
Royce looked around him. "I never thought I'd be telling you in a place like this, but I have to admit it could be a benefit that they took your weapons." He pulled out Danbury's letter.
"How do you have that?" Hadrian asked.
"From Arista."
"Didn't they take it when they grabbed you?"
"Are you kidding? I practically had to remind them to take my dagger. They don't seem too accustomed to thieves, much less ones that turn themselves in." Royce handed the note to Hadrian. "What did you think of when you read this?"
"That my father died filled with pain and regret. He believed the words of a selfish seventeen-year-old that he was a coward and wasted his life. It's bad enough I left him, but I had to paint that stain on him before leaving."
"Hadrian, I don't think this letter had anything to do with your leaving. I think it is due to your heritage. I think your father was trying to tell you something about your past."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying your father had a secret-a big secret."
"How would you know? You never met my father. You're not making any sense."
Royce sighed. "Last year in Avempartha, Esrahaddon was using a spell to find the heir."
"I remember, you told me that before."
"But I didn't tell you everything. The spell didn't find the heir exactly, but rather magical amulets worn by him and his guardian. Esrahaddon made the necklaces so he could locate the wearers and prevent other wizards from finding them. As I said, I didn't recognize the face of the heir."
"And this is important why?"
"I didn't know, at least not for certain, not really. I always thought Esra was using us. That's mainly why I never told you. I wanted to be sure it was true, that's why I asked you to come and why I led us here."
Royce paused a moment then asked, "Where did you get that necklace, the amulet you wear under your shirt?"
"I told you, my father…"
Hadrian paused, staring at Royce, his hand unconsciously rising to his neck to feel the necklace.
"I didn't recognize the heir…but I did recognize the guardian. Your father had a secret Hadrian-a big secret."
Hadrian continued to stare back at Royce. His mind flashed back to his youth, to his gray-haired father spending day after day toiling humbly on the anvil and forge making harrows and ploughshares. He recalled Danbury growling at him to clean the shop.
"No," Hadrian said. "My father was a blacksmith."
"How many blacksmiths teach their sons ancient Teshlor combat skills, most of which have been lost for centuries? Where did you get that big spadone sword you've carried on your back since I first met you? Was that your father's, too?"
He slowly nodded and felt a chill raise the hairs on his arms. He never told Royce about that. He never told anyone. He took the sword the night he left. He needed his own blade. Da often had several weapons in his shop, but taking them would cost his father money. Instead, he took the only weapon he felt his father would not miss. Da kept the spadone hidden in a small compartment under the shop's fifth floorboard. Hadrian remembered Danbury taking it out only once. It was a long time ago when his mother was still alive. He was very young and could barely remember it. His mother was asleep and he was supposed to be too, but something woke him. He crawled out of bed and found his father in the shop. Da had been drinking Armigil's ale and was sitting on the floor in the glow of the forge. In his hands, he cradled the huge two-handed sword, talking to it as if it was a person. He was crying. In seventeen years of living with the man, Hadrian only saw him cry that one time.
"I want you to do me a favor. Read this again, only this time pretend you hadn't run away. Read it as if you and your father were on great terms and that he was proud of you."
Hadrian held the parchment up to the moonlight and read it again.
Haddy,
I hope this letter will find you. It is important that you know there was a reason why you should never use the training for money or fame. I should have told you the truth, but my pain was too great. I can admit to you now I am ashamed of my life, ashamed of what I failed to do. I suppose you were right. I am a coward. I let everyone down. I hope you can forgive me, but I can never forgive myself.
Love Da
Before you were born, the year ninety-two
Lost what was precious, and that what was new.
The blink of an eye, the beat of a heart
Out went the candle, and guilt was my part.
A king and his knight, went hunting a boar
A rat and his friends, were hunting for lore.
Together they fought, till one was alive
The knight sadly wept, No king had survived.
The answers to riddles, to secrets and more
Are found in the middle of Legends and Lore.
Seek out the answer, and learn if you can
The face of regret, the life of a man.
"You realize a spadone is a knight's weapon?" Royce asked.
Hadrian nodded.
"And yours is a very old sword, isn't it?"
Hadrian nodded again.
"I would venture to guess it's about nine hundred years old. I think you are the descendent of Jerish, the Guardian of the Heir," Royce told him. "Although maybe not literally. The way I heard it, the heir has a direct bloodline but the guardian just needed to pass down his skills. The next in line didn't need to be his son, although I guess it's possible."
Hadrian stared at Royce. He did not know how to feel about this. Part of him was excited, thrilled, vindicated, and part of him was certain Royce was insane.
"And you kept this from me?" Hadrian asked, astonished.
"I didn't want to tell you until I knew for sure. I thought Esrahaddon might be playing us."
"Don't you think I would have thought of that too? What do you take me for? Have you worked with me for twelve years because you think I'm stupid? How conceited can you be? You can't trust me to make my own decisions, so you make them for me?"
"I'm telling you now, aren't I?"
"It took you a whole damn year, Royce!" Hadrian shouted at him. "Didn't you think I'd find this important? When I told you I was miserable because I felt my life lacked purpose-that I wanted a cause worth fighting for-you didn't think that protecting the heir qualified?" Hadrian shook his head in disbelief. "You stuck-up, manipulative, lying-"
"I never lied to you!"
"No, you just concealed the truth, which to me is a lie, but in your twisted little mind is a virtue!"
"I knew you were going to take it this way," Royce said in a superior tone.
"How else would you expect me to take it? Gee pal, thanks for thinking so little of me that you couldn't tell me the truth about my own life?"
"That's not the reason I didn't tell you," Royce snapped.
"You just said it was!"
"I know I did!"
"So you're lying to me again?"
"Call me a liar one more time-"
"And what? What? You going to fight me?"
"It's dark in here."
"But there's no room for you to hide. You're only a threat until I get my hands on you. I just need to grab your spindly little neck. For all your quickness, once I get a grip on you it's all over."
Without warning, cold water poured down on them. Looking up they could see silhouetted figures.
"You boys, be quiet down there!" shouted a voice. "His Excellency wants a word with you."
One head disappeared from view and another replaced it at the opening's edge.
"I am Luret, the Imperial Envoy of Her Eminence the Grand Imperial Empress Modina Novronian. Because of your involvement in escorting a member of the royal court of Melengar to Her Majesty's enemy, the Nationalists, the two of you are hereby charged with espionage and hitherto will be put to death by hanging in three days' time. Should, however, you wish to attempt to rescind that sentence to life in prison, I would be willing to do so under the condition that you reveal to me the whereabouts of the Princess Arista Essendon of Melengar."
Neither said a word.
"Tell me where she is, or you will be hanged as soon as the village carpenter can build us a proper gallows."
Again they were silent.
"Very well, perhaps a day or two rotting in there will change your mind." He turned away and spoke to the jailor. "No food or water. It might help to loosen their tongues, besides there's really no sense in wasting it."
They waited in silence as the figures above moved away.
"How does he know?" Hadrian whispered.
A ghastly look stole over Royce's face.
"What is it?"
"Etcher. He's the mole in the Diamond."
Royce kicked the wall causing a splash. "How could I have been so blind!? He was the one who lit the lamp on the river alerting the wherry behind us. The only reason he never thought to check the mill's sails was because it didn't matter to him. I bet he never even told Price where we were, so there would be no way for the Diamond to find us. There must be an ambush waiting at Amberton Lee, or somewhere along the way."
"But why take her there? Why not just turn Arista over to Luret?"
"I'd wager this is Merrick's game. He doesn't want some imperial clown like Luret getting the prize. She's a commodity which can be sold to the Empire, or ransomed to Melengar for a profit. If Luret grabs her he gets nothing,"
"So why tell Luret about us at all?"
"Insurance. With the manor officials after us, we'd be pressed for time and wouldn't pause to question Etcher's story. I'm sure it was only to hasten our departure and have us unprepared, but it turned out even better because you were captured and I decided to stay behind to help you."
"And you sent Arista off alone with Etcher."
"She's on her way to Merrick, or Guy, or both. Maybe they'll keep her and demand Alric surrender Medford. He won't, of course. Pickering won't let him."
"I can't believe Alric sent her in the first place. What an idiot! Why didn't he pick a representative outside the royal court? Why did he have to send her?"
"He didn't send her," Royce said. "I doubt anyone in Medford has a clue where she is. She did this on her own."
"What?"
"She arrived at The Rose amp; Thorn unescorted. Have you ever seen her go anywhere without a bodyguard?"
"So why did you-"
"Because I needed an excuse to bring you here, to find out if what Esrahaddon showed me was true."
"So this is my fault?" Hadrian asked.
"No, it's everyone's fault: you for pushing so hard to retire, me for not telling you the truth, Arista for being reckless, even your father for never having told you who you really were."
They sat in silence a moment.
"So what do we do now?" Hadrian said at last. "Your original plan isn't going to work so well anymore."
"Why do I always have to come up with the plans, Mr. I'm-not-so-stupid?"
"Because, when it comes to deciding how I should live my own life-I should be the one to choose-but when getting out of a prison, even as pathetic as it is, that's more your area of expertise."
Royce sighed and began to look around at the walls.
"By the way," Hadrian began, "what was the real reason you didn't tell me?"
"Huh?"
"A bit ago you said-"
"Oh," Royce continued to study the walls. He seemed a little too preoccupied by them. Just as Hadrian was sure he would not answer, Royce said, "I didn't want you to leave."
Hadrian almost laughed at the comment, thinking it was a joke, and then nearly bit his tongue. It was hard to think of Royce as anything but callous. Then he realized Royce never had a family and precious few friends. He grew up an orphan on the streets of Ratibor, stealing his food and clothes and likely receiving his share of beatings for it. He probably joined the Diamond as much from a desire to belong as a means to profit. After only a few short years they betrayed him. Hadrian realized at that moment Royce did not see him just as his partner, but his family. Along with Gwen and perhaps Arcadius, they were the only ones he had.
"You ready?" Royce asked.
"For what?"
"Turn around, let's go back to back and link arms."
"You're kidding. We aren't going to do that again, are we?" Hadrian said miserably. "I've been sitting in cold water for hours. I'll cramp."
"You know another way to get up there?" Royce asked, and Hadrian shook his head. Royce looked up. "It isn't even as high as the last time and it's narrower so it will be easier. Stand up and stretch a second. You'll be fine."
"What if the guard is up there with a stick to poke us with?"
"Do you want to get out of here or not?"
Hadrian took a deep breath. "I'm still mad at you," he said, turning and linking arms back to back with Royce.
"Yeah well, I'm not too happy with me either right now."
They began pushing against each other as they walked up the walls of the pit. Immediately Hadrian's legs began to protest the effort, but the strain on his legs was taken up some by the tight linking of their arms and the stiff leverage it provided.
"Push harder against me," Royce told him.
"I don't want to crush you."
"I'm fine just lean back more."
Initially the movement was clumsy and the exertion immense, but soon they fell into a rhythm.
"Step," Royce whispered. The pressure exerted against each other was sufficient to keep them pinned.
"Step." They slid another foot up, scraping over the stony sides.
The water running down the walls gave birth to a slippery slime and Hadrian carefully placed his feet on the drier bricks and used the cracks for traction. Royce was infinitely better at this sort of thing, and impatient with their progress. Hadrian was far less comfortable and often pushed too hard. His legs were longer and stronger and he had to keep remembering to relax.
They finally rose above the level of the slime to where the rock was dry, and moved with more confidence. They were now high enough that a fall would break bones. He started to perspire with the exertion and his skin was slicked with sweat. A droplet cascaded down his face and hung dangling on the tip of his nose. Above he could see the grate growing larger, still a maddening distance away.
What if we can't make it? How can we get back down besides falling?
Hadrian had to push the thought out of his mind and concentrate. Nothing good would come from anticipating failure. Instead, he forced himself to think of Arista riding to her death or capture. They had to make it up-and quickly-before his legs lost all of their strength. Already they shook from fatigue, buckling under the strain.
As they neared the top, Royce stopped calling steps. Hadrian kept his eyes on the wall where he placed his feet, but felt Royce tilting his head back peering up. "Stop," he whispered. Panting for air they steadied themselves, unlinked arms, and grabbed the grating. Letting their tortured legs fall loose, they hung for a minute. The release of the strain was wonderful, and Hadrian closed his eyes with pleasure as he gently swayed.
"Good news and bad news," Royce said. "No guards, but it's locked."
"You can do something about that, right?"
"Just give me a second."
He could feel Royce shifting around behind him. "Got it." There was another brief pause and Hadrian's fingers were starting to hurt. "Okay, we'll slide it to your left, ready? Feet up."
Lighter than Hadrian expected, they slid the grate clear of the opening and in one fluid movement hauled themselves out. Rolling on the damp grass of the manor's lawn, they lay for a second catching their breath. They were alone in a darkened corner of the manor's courtyard.
"Weapons?" Hadrian asked.
"I'll check the house. You see about getting horses."
"Don't kill anyone," Hadrian mentioned.
"I'll try not to, but if I see Luret-"
"Oh yeah, kill him."
Hadrian worked his way carefully toward the courtyard stable. The horses made a sudden start at his approach, snorting and bumping loudly into the stall dividers. He grabbed the first saddle and bridle he found and discovered they were familiar. Arista's bay mare, his horse, and Mouse were corralled with the rest.
"Easy girl," Hadrian whispered softly as he threw the blankets on two of them. He buckled the last bridle around Mouse's neck when Royce came in carrying a bundle of swords.
"Your weapons, sir knight."
"Luret?" Hadrian asked, strapping his swords on.
Royce made a disappointed sound. "Didn't see him. Didn't see hardly anyone. These country folk go to bed early."
"We're a simple lot."
"Mouse?" Royce muttered. "I just can't seem to get rid of this horse, can I?"
Arista discovered riding on the back of a horse was significantly less comfortable than riding in a saddle. Etcher added to her misery by keeping the horse at a trot. The hammering to Arista's body caused her head to ache. She asked for him to slow down, but was ignored. Before long, the animal slowed to a walk on its own. It frothed and Arista could feel its sweat soaking her gown. Etcher kicked the beast until it started again. When the horse once more retuned to a walk, the thief resorted to whipping it with the ends of the reins. He missed and struck Arista hard across the thigh. She yelped, but that too was ignored. Eventually Etcher gave up and let the horse rest. She asked where they were going and why they needed to rush. Still, he said nothing-he never even turned his head. After a mile or two, he drove the animal into a trot once more. It was as if she was not there.
With each jarring clap on the horse's back Arista became increasingly aware of her vulnerability. She was alone with a strange man somewhere in the backwoods of Rhenydd, where any authority of law would seize her rather than him, regardless of what he did. All she knew about him-the only thing she could be certain of-was that he was morally dubious. While it was one thing to trust herself to Royce and Hadrian, it was quite another to leap onto the back of a horse with a stranger who took her off into the wilds. If she had time to think, she might have declined to go, but now it was too late. She rode trusting to the mercy of a dangerous man in a hostile land.
His silence did nothing to alleviate her fear. When it came to silence, Etcher put Royce to shame. He said nothing at all. The profession of thievery was not likely to attract gregarious types but Etcher seemed an extreme case. He even refused to look at her. This was perhaps better than other alternatives. A man such as Etcher was likely only acquainted with sun-baked, easy women in dirty dresses. How appealing must it be to have a young noblewoman clutching to him alone in the wilderness-and a royal princess at that.
If he attacks me, what can I do?
A good high-pitched scream would draw a dozen armed guards in Essendon castle, but since leaving Hintindar she had not seen a house or a light. Even if someone heard her she would probably spend her life in an imperial prison once her identity was discovered. He could do with her as he willed and when he was done he could kill her or hand her over to imperial authorities who would no doubt pay him for the service. No one would care if he delivered her bruised and bloodied. She regretted her fast escape without taking the time to think. She had nothing to defend herself with. Her small side pouch held only her father's hairbrush and a bit of coin. Her dagger was somewhere in the bundle of her bedding. How long would it take her to find it in the dark?
She sighed.
Why must I always focus on the negative? The man has done nothing at all. So he's quiet, so what? He's risking his own life smuggling me to this meeting. He's nervous, watchful, perhaps he's frightened, too. Is it so odd he's not making small talk? I'm just scared, that's all. Everything looks bad when you're scared. Isn't it possible he's just shy around women? Cautious around noble ladies? Concerned anything he says or does could be misconstrued and lead to dangerous accusations? Obviously, he has good cause to be concerned. I've already practically convicted him of a host of crimes he hasn't had time to commit! Royce and Hadrian are honorable thieves, why not Etcher as well?
The trail disappeared entirely and they rode across unmarked fields of windswept grass. They seemed to be heading toward a vague and distant hill. She spotted some structures silhouetted against the pallid sky. They entered yet another forest this time through a narrow opening in the dense foliage. Here, Etcher was content to let the horse walk. It was quiet away from the wind. Fireflies blinked around them and Arista listened to the clacking steps of their mount.
We're on a road?
Too dark to see anything clearly, Arista recognized the sound of hooves on cobblestone.
Where are we?
When at last they cleared the trees she could see the slope of a bald hill where the remains of buildings sat. Giant stones spilled and scattered to the embrace of grass, forming dark heaped ruins of arched doorways and pylons of rock. Like grave markers they thrust skyward at neglected angles, the lingering cadavers and bleached bones of forgotten memories.
"What is this place?" Arista asked.
She heard a horse whinny and spotted the glow of a fire up the slope. Without a word Etcher kicked the horse once more into a trot. Arista took solace knowing the end of her ordeal was at hand.
Near the top, two men sat huddled amidst the ruins. A campfire flicked, sheltered from the wind by a corner section of weathered stone and rubble. One was hooded, the other hatless and immediately Arista thought of Royce and Hadrian.
Had they somehow arrived ahead of us?
As they drew closer, Arista realized she was wrong. These men were younger, and both as large as, if not larger than, Hadrian. They stood at their approach and Arista saw dark shirts, leather tunics and broadswords hanging from thick belts.
"Running late," the hooded one said. "Thought you weren't going to make it."
"Are you Nationalists?" she asked.
The men hesitated. "Of course," the other replied.
They approached, and the hooded one helped her down from the horse. His hands were large and powerful. He showed no strain taking her weight. He had two days of beard and smelled of sour milk.
"Are one of you Degan Gaunt?"
"No," the hooded one replied. "He sent us ahead to see if you were who you said you were. Are you the Princess Arista Essendon of Melengar?"
She looked from one face to the next, all harsh expressions, even Etcher glared at her.
"Well, are you or aren't you?" He pressed, moving closer.
"Of course she is!" Etcher blurted out. "I have a long ride back so I want my payment, and don't try and cheat me."
"Payment?" Arista asked.
Etcher once more ignored her.
"I don't think we can pay you for delivery until we know it's her, and we certainly aren't taking your word for it. She could be a whore from the swill yards of Colnora that you washed and dressed up-and did a piss-poor job of it, at that."
"She's pretending to be a commoner and she's dirty on account of the ride here."
The hooded man advanced even closer to study her. She backed up instinctively but not fast enough as he grabbed her roughly at the chin and twisted her face from side to side.
Infuriated, she kicked at him and managed to strike his shin.
The man grunted and anger flashed in his eyes. "You bloody little bitch!" He struck her hard across the face with the flat of his hand.
The explosion of pain overwhelmed her. She found herself on her hands and knees gripping a spinning world with fists of grass. Her face ached, and her eyes watered.
The men laughed.
The humiliation was too much. "How dare you strike me!" she screamed.
"See," Etcher said pointing at her.
The hooded man nodded. "Alright, we'll pay you. Danny, give him twenty gold."
"Twenty? The sentinel agreed to fifty!" Etcher protested.
"Keep your mouth shut or it'll be ten."
Arista panted on the ground, her breath coming in short stifled gasps. She was scared and rapidly losing herself to panic. She needed to calm down-to think. Through bleary eyes, she looked to Etcher and his horse. There was no chance of grabbing it and riding away. His feet were in the stirrups and her weight could never pull him off.
"Guy won't appreciate you pocketing thirty of the gold he sent with you."
They laughed. "Who do you really think he'll believe? You or us?"
Arista considered the fire. She could try to run to it and grab a burning stick. No. She would never make the distance, and even if she did, what would a burning stick do against swords. They would only laugh at her.
"Take the twenty and keep your damn mouth shut, or you can ride away with nothing."
She could try running. It was downhill and in the dark she could-no, she was not fast enough and the hill was bare of cover. She would have to make it all the way to the forest before having the slightest hope of getting away and Etcher could ride after her and drag her back. Afterward they would beat and tie her then all hope would be lost.
"Don't even think about it you little git," the hooded one was saying.
Etcher spat in anger. "Give me the twenty."
The hooded man tossed a pouch that jingled and Etcher caught it with a bitter look.
Arista started to cry. Time was running out. She was helpless and there was nothing at all she could do. For all her royal rank, she could not defend herself. Nor was her education in the art of magic any help. All she could do was make them sneeze and that was not going to save her this time.
Where are Royce and Hadrian? Where is Hilfred? How could I be so stupid, so reckless? Isn't there anyone to save me?
Not surprisingly, Etcher left without a word to her.
"So this is what a princess looks like?" the hooded one said. "There's nothing special about you, is there? You look just as dirty as any wench I've had."
"I don't know," the other said. "She's better than I've seen. Throw me the rope over there. I wanna enjoy myself, not get scratched up."
She felt her blood go cold. Her body trembled, tears streamed down her cheeks as she watched the man set off to fetch the rope.
No man had ever touched her before. No one dared think in such terms. It would mean death in Melengar. She had no midnight rendezvous, no casual affairs, or castle romances. No boy ever chanced so much as a kiss, but now…she watched as the man with the stubble beard came at her with a length of twine.
If she had only learned something, more useful than tickling noses and boiling water she could-
Arista stopped crying. She did not realize it but she had stopped breathing as well.
Can it work?
There was nothing else to try.
The man grinned expectantly as Arista closed her eyes and began to hum softly.
"Look at that. I think she likes the idea. She's serenading us."
"Maybe it's a noble ritual or something?"
Arista barely heard them. Once more using the concentration method Esrahaddon taught her she focused her mind. She listened to the breeze sway the grass, the buzz of the fireflies and mosquitoes, and the song of the crickets. She could feel the stars and sense the earth below. There was power there. She pulled it toward her, breathing it in, sucking it into her body, drawing it to her mind.
"How you want her?"
"Wrists behind the back works for me, but maybe we should ask her how she likes it?" They laughed again. "Never know what might tickle a royal's fancy."
She was muttering, forming the words, drawing in the power, giving it form. She focused elements, giving them purpose and direction. She built the incantation as she had before but now varied it. She pushed, altering the tone to shift the focus just enough.
The crickets stopped their song and the fireflies creased their mating flashes, even the gentle wind no longer blew. The only sound now was Arista's voice as it grew louder and louder.
Arista felt herself pulled to her feet as the man spun her and maneuvered her arms behind her back. She ignored him concentrating instead on moving her fingers as if she were playing an invisible musical instrument.
Just as she felt the rough scratchy rope touch her wrists, the men began to scream.
The ruins of Amberton Lee stood splintered on the hilltop. Pillars, broken steps of marble, and slab walls lay fractured and fallen. Only three trees stood near the summit of the barren hill and all of them dead leafless corpses like the rest of the ruins, still standing long after their time.
"There's a fire up there, but I only see Arista," Royce said.
"Bait?"
"Probably. Give me a head start, maybe I can free her before they know something is up. If nothing else, I should spring whatever trap is waiting and then hopefully you can rush in and save the day."
It bothered Royce how quiet the hill was. He could hear the distant snorting and hoofing of horses and the crackle of the campfire, but nothing else. They had raced as fast as their horses could manage, and still Royce was afraid they were too late. When riding, he was certain she was dead. Now he was confused. There was no doubt that the woman near the fire was Arista. So where was Etcher? Where were those they intended to meet?
He crept carefully, slipping nimbly around a holly tree and up the slope. Half-buried stones and tilted rocks lay hidden beneath grass and thorns, making the passage a challenge. He circled once and found no sentries or movement.
He climbed higher and happened upon two bodies. The men were dead, yet still warm to the touch, more than warm, they felt-hot. There were no wounds, no blood. Royce proceeded up the last of the hill, advancing on the flickering fire. The princess sat huddled near it quietly staring into the flames. She was alone and lacked even her travel bags.
"Arista?" he whispered.
She looked up lazily, drunkenly, as if her head weighed more than it should. The glow of the fire spilled across her face. Her eyes appeared red and swollen. A welt stood out on one of her cheeks.
"It's Royce. You alright?"
"Yes," she replied. Her voice was distant and weak.
"Are you alone?"
She nodded.
He stepped into the firelight and waited. Nothing happened. A light summer breeze gently brushed the hill's grass and breathed on the flames. Above them, the stars shone, muted only by the white moon that cast nighttime shadows. Arista sat with the stillness of a statue, except for the hairbrush she turned over and over in her hands. As tranquil as it appeared, Royce's senses were tense. This place made him uneasy. The odd marble blocks, toppled and broken rose out of the ground like teeth. Once more he wondered if somehow he was tapping into his elven heritage, sensing more than could be seen, feeling a memory lost in time.
He caught sight of movement down the slope and spotted Hadrian climbing toward them. He watched him pause for a moment near the bodies before continuing up.
"Where's Etcher?" Royce asked the princess.
"He left. He was paid by Luis Guy to bring me here, to deliver me to some men."
"Yeah. We found that out a bit late. Sorry."
The princess did not look well. She was too quiet. He expected anger or relief, but her stillness was eerie. Something happened-something bad. Besides the welt there was no other sign of abuse. Her clothes were fine. There were no rips or tears. He spotted several blades of dead grass and a brown leaf tangled in her hair.
"You alright?" Hadrian asked as he crested the hill. "Are you hurt?"
She shook her head and one of the bits of grass fell out.
Hadrian crouched down next to her. "Are you sure? What happened?"
Arista did not answer. She stared at the fire and started to rock.
"What happened to the men down on the hill?" Hadrian asked Royce.
"Wasn't me. They were dead when I found them. No wounds either."
"But how-"
"I killed them," Arista said.
They both turned and stared at her.
"You killed two Seret Knights?" Royce asked.
"Were they seret?" Arista muttered.
"They have broken crown rings," Royce explained. "There's no wound on either body. How did you kill them?"
She started trembling. Her breaths drawn in staggered bursts. Her hand went to her cheek rubbing it lightly with her fingertips. "They attacked me. I-I couldn't think of-I didn't know what to do. I was so scared. They were going to-and I was alone. I didn't have a choice. I didn't have a choice. I couldn't run. I couldn't fight. I couldn't hide. All I could do was make them sneeze and boil water. I didn't have a choice. It was all I could do."
She began sobbing. Hadrian tentatively reached toward her. She dropped the brush and took his hands squeezing them tightly. She pulled at him and he wrapped his arms around her while she buried her face into the folds of his shirt. He gently stroked her hair.
Hadrian looked up at Royce with a puzzled look and whispered, "She made them sneeze to death?"
"No," Royce said, glancing back over his shoulder in the direction of the bodies. "She boiled water."
"I didn't know-I didn't know if it would really work," she whispered between hitching breaths. "I-I had to change it. Switch it. Fill in the blanks. I was only guessing, but-but it felt right. The pieces fit. I felt them fit-I made them fit."
Arista lifted her head, wiped her eyes, and looked down the slope of the hill. "They screamed for a very long time. They were on the ground-writhing. I-I tried to stop it then, but I didn't know how and they just kept-they kept on screaming, their faces turning so red. They rolled around on the ground and clawed the dirt, they cried and their screams-they-they got quieter and quieter, then they didn't make any noise except-except they were hissing-hissing and I could see steam rising from their skin."
Tears continued to slip down her cheeks as she looked up at them. Hadrian wiped her face.
"I've never killed anyone before."
"It's okay," Hadrian told her, stroking the back of her head and clearing away the remainder of the grass and leaves. "You didn't want to do it."
"I know. It's just-just that I've never killed anyone before, and you didn't hear them. It's horrible, like part of me was dying with them. I don't know how you do it, Royce. I just don't know."
"You do it by realizing that if the situation was reversed and they succeeded, they wouldn't be crying."
Hadrian slipped a finger under her chin and tilted her face. He cleared the hair stuck to her cheeks and brushed his thumbs under her eyes. "It's okay, it wasn't your fault. You did what you had to. I'm just sorry I wasn't here for you."
Arista looked into his eyes for a moment then nodded and took a clear deep breath and wiped her nose. "I'm really ruining your impression of me, aren't I? I get drunk, I wolf down food, I think nothing of sharing a room with you, and now I…"
"You've nothing to be ashamed of," Hadrian told her. "I only wish more princesses were as worthy of their title as you."
Royce made another survey of the hill and a thorough check of the seret, their horses and gear. He found symbol-emblazoned tunics, confirming their knightly identities, and a good-sized bag of gold, but no documents of any sort. He pulled the saddle and bridle off one horse and let it go.
"There's only the two?" Hadrian asked when he returned. "I would have expected more." He was stirring the coals of the fire with a stick, brightening the hilltop. Arista looked better. She was eating a bit of cheese, her face was washed, her hair brushed. She certainly was showing more resilience than he expected.
"Gives you a whole new respect for Etcher, doesn't it?" Royce said.
"How do you mean?"
"He never planned to bring all of us here, just her. He's a lot brighter than I gave him credit for."
"He wasn't too smart," Arista told them. "The seret cheated him out of thirty gold Luis Guy had promised."
"So this was Guy's operation, not Merrick's," Hadrian said.
"Not sure," Royce responded. "Seems too sophisticated for Guy, but Merrick's plans don't fail." He looked at the princess. "Of course, not even Merrick could have anticipated what she did."
Hadrian stood up and threw away the stick, then looked at the princess. "You gonna be okay? Can you ride?"
She nodded rapidly and followed it with a sniffle. "I was pretty scared-really missed you two. You have no idea-no idea how happy I am to see you again." She blew her nose.
"I get that from a lot of women," Hadrian replied, grinning. "But I will admit, you're the first princess."
She managed a slight smile. "So what do we do now? I haven't a clue where we are, and I'm pretty sure there isn't any meeting with Gaunt."
"There could be," Royce said. "But Cosmos doesn't know where we are to tell us. I'm sure Etcher never carried any message about Hintindar back to Colnora. I should have told Price before we left, but I didn't want to take chances. Just stupid really, I was being too cautious."
"Well, you know I'm not going to argue," Hadrian told him. "It was withholding information that got us into this."
Arista looked at Royce questioningly.
"I told him," Royce said.
"No bruises?" she asked. "Not even a black eye?"
"We never got that far, but maybe later when we have more time," Hadrian said. "Turned out we had to hurry to save a woman who didn't need saving."
"I'm real glad you did."
"We should head to Ratibor," Royce said. "We aren't too far. We can reestablish connection with the Diamond there."
"Ratibor?" Hadrian said suddenly.
"Yeah, you know, dirty, filthy rat hole-the capital of Rhenydd? We've seen where you grew up so we might as well stop by my hometown as well."
Hadrian started searching his clothing. "Hunting a boar," he exclaimed as he pulled out the note from his father. He rushed toward the firelight. "A king and his knight went hunting a boar; a rat and his friends were hunting for lore. A rat and a boar-Ratibor! The king and his knight are my father and the heir, who must have traveled to Ratibor and were attacked by lore hunters." Hadrian pointed over his shoulder in the direction of the dead men. "Seret."
"What's the rest of it?" Royce asked intrigued.
"Together they fought, till one was alive; the knight sadly wept, no king had survived."
"So they fought, but only your father survived the battle and the heir was killed."
"No king had survived," Hadrian said. "An odd way to put that, isn't it? Why not say 'The king died'?"
"Because it doesn't rhyme?" Royce suggested.
"Good point."
"What comes next?" Arista asked.
"The answers to riddles, to secrets and more, are found in the middle, of Legends and Lore."
"There's more to the story apparently," she said, "and you can find the answers in ancient lore? Maybe you need to talk to Arcadius again."
"I think not," Royce said. "There's a street in Ratibor called Legends Avenue and another named Lore Street."
"Do they intersect?"
Royce nodded. "Just a bit south of Central Square."
"And what's there?"
"A church, I think."
"Royce is right, we need to get to Ratibor," Hadrian announced. "You alright to ride, Arista?"
Arista stood up. "Trust me. I am more than ready to leave this place. When I-" She stopped herself. "When I used the Art, I sensed something unpleasant. It feels…"
"Haunted," Royce provided, and she nodded.
"What is this place?" Royce asked Hadrian.
"I don't know."
"It's only a few miles from where you grew up."
Hadrian shrugged. "Folks in Hintindar never talked about it much. There are a few ghost stories and rumors of goblins and ghouls that roam the woods, that kind of thing."
"Nothing about what it was?"
"There was a children's rhyme I remember, something like:
'Ancient stones upon the Lee,
dusts of memories gone we see.
Once the center, once the all,
lost forever, fall the wall.' "
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Hadrian shrugged again. "We used to sing it when playing Fall-the-Wall-it's a kids' game."
"I see," Royce lied.
"Whatever it was I don't like it," Arista declared.
Royce nodded. "It almost makes me look forward to Ratibor-almost."