The Scourge of Muirwood
Page 93
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
“It is crucial that she has the orb when she is older,” the Prince said, looking deep in his eyes. “She must have the orb. Only an Aldermaston can command it, or one of my blood. She will need it to find her way to safety. Without it, she will fail in her mission. I trust you, Nuric. I trust you to deliver her and the orb safely to Muirwood.”
“I will, my lord,” he promised. “I will do as you have commanded me.”
The Prince’s hand was still clenched around the basket. “Be faithful to me, Nuric. You must do all that I commanded you. If you fail, then we have no hope.”
“I will not fail you, my Prince,” he promised soberly.
“Go then. Take the secret tunnel so that no one sees you. The household is moving to Dungeurth castle for protection. The king’s army is nearing the river crossing. There is little time remaining. The orb will guide you past the army safely.”
With a nod, Nuric hugged the basket tightly against his chest. The Prince reached down and hoisted the trapdoor, exposing the ladder below. With a cautious step, Nuric managed his way down into the darkness. He looked up once, his eyes meeting the Prince’s. He nodded firmly. The Prince closed it and kicked the rushes back into place.
The ache in his heart deepened. A wretched – his daughter, the princess of Pry-Ree, soon to be the only heir of the kingdom – she was only a wretched now.
* * *
Prince Alluwyn reined in his stallion as they approached the turn that would lead to the river shallows. The path was obscured by enormous trees, towering redwoods that were wreathed in mist. The ferns swayed in the gentle breeze and the buzzing and cackle of birds and insects filled the air with chatter. Four Evnissyen flanked him, also mounted, each peering keenly into the mist.
“Do you hear the river?” said Braide. “We should hear it by now.”
“Too far,” muttered Tethys. He glanced back into the woods the way they had come. He seemed to be looking for something.
The Prince noticed the tightness of his jaw. The brooding expression. He had the sullen look of a guilty man. He would not meet the Prince’s eyes.
“After they cross the river,” the Prince asked, “How long can we hold them in these woods?”
Braide sniffed the air. “Two days at most, my lord.”
“Two days!” argued Kent. “We could hold them here a fortnight if we had a mind to do so. You speak rubbish, Braide.”
Braide shrugged, but did not change his answer.
“A fortnight,” Kent continued. “This is unfamiliar ground. They will move warily, expecting us to strike their flanks, which we shall. If we harass them, striking and fleeing, striking and fleeing, we can twist and pull their army in several directions. A smaller force, striking hard and fast, can convince an enemy it is larger than it is.”
“But you forget,” said the Prince, “that our enemies have joined forces. They have Pry-rian hunters among them. They know our tricks. They know our tactics. In a matter of force, we cannot prevail. We can only forstall them.”
Kent angrily scowled, not willing to concede the point. “Where is Campion? It is nearly dusk. The river is not far.”
“Coming,” Braide said, tightening his grip on the reins and nudging his stallion forward.
The sound of galloping was heard a moment later, piercing the cluck of birds and sending several keening into the wind as they flew away. Around the bend came an Evnissyen, hunched low over the saddle. His face was streaked with sweat, his eyes wide with terror.
“Ambush!” he shouted when he saw them.
The Prince saw the arrow protruding from the meat of his massive arm as he reined in next to them.
“Ride, my lord!” Campion gasped. “They have already crossed the river. They were waiting for me in the woods, silent and still. Two hundred knights, if not more. They tried to shake me from the saddle, but I fought my way through.”
His hands were bloody. Campion looked backwards at the road. “They ride hard behind me. We will be hard pressed to make it back to the castle. Ride, my lord!”
“Crossed the river!” Kent seethed. “No one knows of the shallows here. No one save one of us. How could they have found it?”
“Ride to the castle,” the Prince ordered, his heart beginning to shudder with anticipation. His breath came in little gulps. “Ride hard while you can. They will be without the walls by morning. The women and children, make sure they are…”
The arrow struck him in the center of his back. The pain was excruciating, a hot fire that stole his breath and made him gasp. Already his fingers and legs were useless, seized up in a fit of agony. They would not respond.
“I will, my lord,” he promised. “I will do as you have commanded me.”
The Prince’s hand was still clenched around the basket. “Be faithful to me, Nuric. You must do all that I commanded you. If you fail, then we have no hope.”
“I will not fail you, my Prince,” he promised soberly.
“Go then. Take the secret tunnel so that no one sees you. The household is moving to Dungeurth castle for protection. The king’s army is nearing the river crossing. There is little time remaining. The orb will guide you past the army safely.”
With a nod, Nuric hugged the basket tightly against his chest. The Prince reached down and hoisted the trapdoor, exposing the ladder below. With a cautious step, Nuric managed his way down into the darkness. He looked up once, his eyes meeting the Prince’s. He nodded firmly. The Prince closed it and kicked the rushes back into place.
The ache in his heart deepened. A wretched – his daughter, the princess of Pry-Ree, soon to be the only heir of the kingdom – she was only a wretched now.
* * *
Prince Alluwyn reined in his stallion as they approached the turn that would lead to the river shallows. The path was obscured by enormous trees, towering redwoods that were wreathed in mist. The ferns swayed in the gentle breeze and the buzzing and cackle of birds and insects filled the air with chatter. Four Evnissyen flanked him, also mounted, each peering keenly into the mist.
“Do you hear the river?” said Braide. “We should hear it by now.”
“Too far,” muttered Tethys. He glanced back into the woods the way they had come. He seemed to be looking for something.
The Prince noticed the tightness of his jaw. The brooding expression. He had the sullen look of a guilty man. He would not meet the Prince’s eyes.
“After they cross the river,” the Prince asked, “How long can we hold them in these woods?”
Braide sniffed the air. “Two days at most, my lord.”
“Two days!” argued Kent. “We could hold them here a fortnight if we had a mind to do so. You speak rubbish, Braide.”
Braide shrugged, but did not change his answer.
“A fortnight,” Kent continued. “This is unfamiliar ground. They will move warily, expecting us to strike their flanks, which we shall. If we harass them, striking and fleeing, striking and fleeing, we can twist and pull their army in several directions. A smaller force, striking hard and fast, can convince an enemy it is larger than it is.”
“But you forget,” said the Prince, “that our enemies have joined forces. They have Pry-rian hunters among them. They know our tricks. They know our tactics. In a matter of force, we cannot prevail. We can only forstall them.”
Kent angrily scowled, not willing to concede the point. “Where is Campion? It is nearly dusk. The river is not far.”
“Coming,” Braide said, tightening his grip on the reins and nudging his stallion forward.
The sound of galloping was heard a moment later, piercing the cluck of birds and sending several keening into the wind as they flew away. Around the bend came an Evnissyen, hunched low over the saddle. His face was streaked with sweat, his eyes wide with terror.
“Ambush!” he shouted when he saw them.
The Prince saw the arrow protruding from the meat of his massive arm as he reined in next to them.
“Ride, my lord!” Campion gasped. “They have already crossed the river. They were waiting for me in the woods, silent and still. Two hundred knights, if not more. They tried to shake me from the saddle, but I fought my way through.”
His hands were bloody. Campion looked backwards at the road. “They ride hard behind me. We will be hard pressed to make it back to the castle. Ride, my lord!”
“Crossed the river!” Kent seethed. “No one knows of the shallows here. No one save one of us. How could they have found it?”
“Ride to the castle,” the Prince ordered, his heart beginning to shudder with anticipation. His breath came in little gulps. “Ride hard while you can. They will be without the walls by morning. The women and children, make sure they are…”
The arrow struck him in the center of his back. The pain was excruciating, a hot fire that stole his breath and made him gasp. Already his fingers and legs were useless, seized up in a fit of agony. They would not respond.
