17878265 (28 page)

Loric stared at her in wonderment.
Does she really believe our words will make a difference
to her father’s plans,
or is she trying to live out the storybook tales her nursemaid told her?

Both thoughts vanished as Loric caught Avalana’s eyes straying out the cloudy stable

window. He turned his focus to the sky without and found that the rain had nearly stopped.

Furthermore, clouds were graying with the coming of daybreak. It was much later in the morning than he first guessed. Avalana had to return to her chamber before her handmaids missed her.

“I love you, Avalana,” Loric assured her, knowing his words were as foolish as the feelings behind them.

Avalana ignited the remaining stump of Loric’s candle, pressed something soft into his hand and ran to the secret stairwell. Loric regretfully shut the door on the departed princess and examined her gift to him. He drew white folds of cloth away from the hidden treasure in his palm and found a slender bracelet. Loric recognized it as one the princess always wore. It was a simple gold band with no imperfections. It seemed as pure as did the lady to whom it belonged.

Written upon the cloth in a steady looping script were the following words:
Wear this, Loric,
my AMI, for it is a token of my love for thee. In your darkest hour, may it remind you of that
which we share. In the seeming moment of your defeat, may it give you the hope and courage to
prevail. Return to me soon, I pray. Everything depends upon you.

Loric slipped that prized item onto his wrist and pulled his sleeve over it. He neatly folded the cloth and tucked it into the pocket next to his left breast. Then he hurried about his work. He had horses to saddle. He peered out of the dirty window again.

The sun was nearly up, but one could scarcely tell it. The sky was thickly overcast and rain continued down in dreary drizzle. With weather and errant thoughts of the princess to distract him, Loric scolded himself,
So much for duty before love.

Chapter Thirteen

Hero of the Day

With Avalana’s departure through the secret passageway, Loric turned his attention to Lord Aldric’s magnificent steed, Snowstorm. Thoughts of the princess inescapably lingered as the new squire tightened the saddle girth about the white horse. Even when other men began to enter the stable with mumbled greetings to Loric and to one another, he could not wholly set aside his latest conversation with Avalana, which held the foremost place in his mind.

Every man of every company was sopping wet from sloshing across the muddy ground in

pouring rain, and every one among them grumbled his discontent at having to set off so early and in such unfavorable weather. Even so, the rain was the least troublesome problem to the young squire in their midst. He was in love with a girl he could never have, sundered from her by a war that had no end and forced to fight by the powerful persuasion of his personal honor to do his duty for the Kingdom of Beledon. Those thoughts hardened him for the days of trial ahead.
This
is no time to be soft.

Loric brought two horses out into the drizzle, with his mind a putty-like mix of love and war. He lifted his eyes from the mud, where he was envisioning beauty known and horror he could only imagine, to see Aldric hastening toward him. Loric discarded wasted thoughts and strolled forward to meet his liege lord, bringing Sunset and Snowstorm along behind him.

Aldric showed his satisfaction when he noticed Loric was there waiting for him, with

polished armor plates that collected beaded moisture as soon as he removed them from the burlap sack that housed them. Loric helped Aldric don his shiny armor and he girded his lord’s emerald-studded sword about his waist. Then the man stepped into the nearest stirrup and swung his leg over Snowstorm’s back.

“You have kept your word,” Aldric praised him. “Snowstorm is fit for battle.”

“I have done my best, my lord,” answered Loric.

“That is all I ask of any man in my service,” stated Aldric. “Your best has done more than satisfy me today. It has set me at ease about the coming battle.” Aldric looked as though he wanted to say more, but he pinched his tongue behind his teeth and grunted, “All will be well.

Thank you.”

Loric humbly bowed, but he was proud within.

Aldric told him to rise. Then he set about bellowing orders to his captains. Garrick and Garrett were also calling out commands to their subordinates. Loric noted that Lord Garrick was firm, but reserved with his men, and they responded as well to him as Aldric’s men did to their lord. On the other hand, Garrett was unnecessarily harsh with his subordinates, often intervening to take action with his common soldiers, rather than working through his chain of command.

“Marblin, you fool!” bellowed Garrett, in one instance of this break. “Is there nothing you can do right? You have the wit of a doorpost.”

Loric felt himself growing hot within, as he listened to Garrett go on to threaten and further belittle the Moonwatcher. Loric glanced at Aldric to see his reaction to this mistreatment, but if Garrett’s cruel words troubled the Lord of Egolstadt, he showed it not. Loric was barely able to hold his tongue.

“Marblin, if you do not get your gear in order right now,” threatened Garrett, “I swear I will have you flogged and thrown in the dungeon for your slovenly and bumbling approach to your duties.”

“My lord-” Loric began quietly, only to be interrupted.

“Be silent,” Aldric commanded him. “I know what is in your mind to say, and you will keep it to yourself.”

“But, lord, I-”

Loric’s protest was cut short once again. “There is nothing I can do,” Aldric said testily.

“You must understand this. I am under Garrett’s authority, as are you. He is the Heir of Durbansdan and the Blood of Great Donigan, no matter his misunderstanding of his right responsibilities to his men.”

That exchange bothered Loric. He thought it altogether cowardly of Aldric not to take the part of Marblin, who Garrett was clearly bullying. He wanted to step forward to help the blundering Moonwatcher, but he grudgingly complied with his liege lord’s order to stand down.

“I disagree with Garrett’s methods as well,” Aldric consoled Loric, as though he had read his thoughts, “but those men are his to command. It is not for me to tell his lordship how to conduct himself as a leader.”

“Yes, my lord,” Loric sullenly acquiesced.

The assembled companies of Durbansdan and Egolstadt saw Lord Hadregeon and his train

of attendants and henchmen off toward the westward road for their homes in Landolstadt. His niece, Lady Hadelia, rode beside him, beaming broadly at Loric and offering him a quaint twitch of a wave, despite his efforts to avoid glancing her way. Only afterward did Garrick’s host finally begin moving. Lord Garrick rode at the head of his men with King Avalar, who was coming along as an observer. A host of aides and retainers surrounded the leading pair and Lord Garrett, who was also near his father’s side, from whence he passed along orders in his usual brutish way. At the end of the Durbansdanian column, the companies of Egolstadt began. Aldric rode at the front of his men, with his squire attending him at all times.

As they streamed out of the gate, Loric gazed at lofty towers one last time. He thought of Avalana and his parting words with her. It hurt to leave her, but it could hurt him more so to stay with her. Loric longed to have a final look at her face in that moment, no matter the cost to his young heart. Almost in answer to his deep yearning, Elena and Avalana step out onto the portico.

There, they waved goodbye to the departing host, cheering them on, and wishing them well.

Garrick led his men in a sword and lance salute to the Lady of Durbansdan and the Princess of Regalsturn as the army rode out of the city. Then he hastened his men to the King’s Way Crossing. Once his columns reached the highway, the plains of Durbansdan began scrolling by on their left, as a never-ending sea of tall grass and weeds. They could see the river valley to their right, only a short distance from the elevated roadway. Occasionally, oaks, elms and birches of Riverwood thinned out enough to allow them brief glimpses of swiftly rushing currents beyond. When the sun broke free of clouds, it created a dazzling scene, like sparkling diamonds cast haphazardly amongst great green-and-gold boughs.

Loric felt pain in his rump and took to sitting one cheek at a time before Garrett finally signaled the party to stop for the evening. Everyone hurried to make camp, assembling tents and collecting firewood before the orders came to them. Rows of canvas shelters went up on the instant, as if the men feared their liege might change his mind and resume the march if roofs did not rise fast enough to suit him. Loric approached the job just as eagerly as other men did, even though he was stiff and sore from his lengthy ride.

There arose a
clang
and clatter of pots and pans hitting the ground while Loric was at his work. A series of enraged shouts from Garrett followed the racket. Loric looked up from the fire pit he was assembling to find that Marblin was on his hands and knees, frantically attempting to pick up the cooking gear he had dropped. Garrett was standing over him, yelling, “What are you doing, Marblin? Pick those up!”

“Yes, milord,” Marblin mumbled.

“Do not speak to me, fool. See to your task without banging pots to call our enemies to our camp, or I shall have you flogged.”

Loric growled and turned his attention back to his business, but more clanging soon

distracted him. Those noises were precursors to a howl of pain from Garrett. Marblin had gathered an armload of pots and pans, only to drop one of them on the pompous heir’s foot. The prince’s discomfort pleased Loric, but he felt pity for the bungling Moonwatcher, who now groveled at his mercy.

Garrett screamed, “You will soon regret your fumbling and blundering!” His outburst

preceded a swift kick to Marblin’s side. The older man rolled away from his incensed liege lord, who drew back a fist to punch him.

A hand caught Garrett’s arm about the wrist and held it firmly. Loric had seen enough of Garrett’s wanton abuses upon Marblin. He spun Garrett to the side and threatened, “If another blow falls against this man, he will not be the only one to know regret.”

“Marblin, go and finish your task in peace,” Loric kindly ordered him. “Make haste about it.

Let’s not keep your prince waiting for his supper.” He then focused his eyes on Garrett, whom he had first taken by surprise. Loric bit back the sickly feeling that was welling up inside him, as he admonished his superior, “You will have more than enough blows to strike in Nindronburg without bullying your men in the meantime.”

Garrett’s initial shock faded. His mouth puckered and twitched, making Loric think he might cry. He looked past Loric, shouting, “Insolence! Aldric, have your dog of a squire thrashed for his wagging tongue! That is, unless the two of you would rather drink a toast to my health.”

“I am glad the wine was good for you on feast night, lord,” Loric answered coldly. “Drink if you wish, but I shall save my toasts for the day Turtioc topples from his seat in Nindronburg.”

“Aldric, have this upstart farm churl flogged at once!” Garrett curtly commanded. “I tire of listening to him. He has posed as a noble lord quite long enough. His authority has clearly gone to his head. Else, why would he dare touch me and speak threats upon me?”

Loric wanted to fire back, proclaiming,
I am Loric son of Sir Palendar! I am only guilty of
posing as less than what I am, which are in fact the Blood of Logant and the Heir of Belgandost!

Instead, he looked to Aldric, who was watching events unfold with deep worry. Much to Loric’s dismay, Aldric opened his mouth to give the order. The next words spoken were not his words.

“He acted against you, because you were out of line, son,” Garrick informed Garrett. “No flogging will be necessary, Aldric.”

Garrett stood open-mouthed with shock.

Garrick stared his son down and announced, “Much to my shame, I have seen all that has befallen here.” His voice rattled like a cartwheel over cobblestones as he snapped, “That my own flesh and blood should misuse another so! It is dishonorable to beat down a guard of your own city, son. This young squire has behaved more nobly than mine own heir by taking up a lesser man’s cause at the risk of grave punishment.”

“Father, I only-”

Garrick stopped his son’s protest abruptly. “Do not dishonor yourself further by trying to justify your act of cruelty. I let you bandy your power as you like, but here you have exceeded your granted liberties against good judgment.” Garrick turned to Aldric and murmured, “You were right to place this lad at your side. It is as you say. He is both bold and just.”

Aldric was genuinely humble as he confessed, “My lord, I only wish that my cousin had not been forced to take up this man’s cause. To my shame, I commanded him to be silent in this matter, but he chose to be upright, regardless of my will. While I take no pleasure in his disobedience, I am pleased that he has done rightly in your eyes.”

“Aldric, I appreciate your honesty in
this,”
Garrick replied. “Now I should like to have a word with my son--
alone
.” He strode off for his own large tent, commanding, “Come along, Garrett. Let us speak privately. Unless you would prefer to do this here,” he suggested.

The embittered young nobleman stood there for a moment, unmoving. His eyes were ablaze with hatred for Loric. Just before Garrett turned away, Loric saw his expression change from one of malice to a sudden smirk. The Taeglinite was glad the confrontation was over and he was thankful that he had not been thrashed for his part in it, but that wicked look concerned him.

“You have made a powerful enemy, Loric,” Aldric informed him.

“I will not grudge Garrett his choice to be such,” Loric muttered.

“Garrett is a rash young lord with too much authority and too little restraint,” Aldric cautioned. “There is no way to guess how he might even his tally with you.”