Minstrel's Serenade (6 page)

She grabbed Bron’s arm. “Over here. There’s a hidden outcropping.”

“Saved by the princess.” Bron snarled at Valorian and turned to Danika. “I don’t care what this minstrel says. We should conceal our trespassing.”

The whispering trees sent shivers up her spine. She wasn’t about to argue. “You’re the bodyguard.”

They steered the carriage off the trail and made camp uphill from the road where they could spot any passing travelers. Valorian unlatched a bag of fruit and passed a sweet peach each to Nip and Danika. Bron refused, chewing on jerky.

The warrior said nothing. Danika leaned forward, swallowing a mouthful of sweet peach juice. “How did King Troubadir acquire such a massive scale?”

Valorian had finished eating and swung his lute over his shoulder to rest against his flat stomach that could or could not contain chiseled abs. Danika didn’t need to know.

He strummed a tentative chord. “The table?”

Danika nodded, leaning on the trunk of a massive black pine. The cool, mossy bark soothed her aching back.

His fingertips plucked a series of melancholy notes. Two high chimes then a low bass drone. “Traders from Brimmore’s Bay brought the scale in. They said the monstrosity washed up on their shores.”

“Makes sense with the tide rushing up from Scalehaven.” Danika ran her tongue over her front teeth, still tasting sugar. “Have you talked with anyone who’s actually seen the She-Beast?”

Tension grew in Valorian’s melody. “No one has seen her up close and lived to tell the tale. The reports come from witnesses on the shore. They see the worm’s writhing outline on the horizon. They say her body resembles a corkscrew unfurling infinitely long, cutting the sky in half.”

Danika refused to let fear in. Village bumpkins were known to exaggerate their accounts. “And how do you plan to vanquish her?”

Valorian struck a dissonant note and the lute rang throughout the woods. “I have reason to believe these fire worms are intelligent, and if they are, my minstrels will find a way to use our songs to quell their raging breath. But, our music cannot kill. Our songs open one’s heart to the emotions residing within.” He gazed at Bron. “I’ll need your bodyguard’s steel to strike her when her guard is down.”

The note dissipated into silence. Danika nodded. “’Tis a good plan.”

Bron shifted his weight, stretching his massive legs across the pine needles. “Only if the She-Beast and her kin can understand the music’s meaning.”

His song finished, Valorian strapped his lute to his back. “Music is a universal language understood by all.”

Bron unsheathed his dagger and used the tip to clean his teeth. “What if these fireworms don’t care for music?”

Valorian smiled like he’d won the game. “Everyone cares for music, even a newborn baby or an elder too old to remember anything else. The trick is finding the right chords to strike to find their innermost desires and open their heart. All I need is the protection to get near enough for my music to reach these fireworms’ scaly ears.”

Bron sheathed his dagger. “Consider it done.”

A foul wind tickled Danika’s nose and she covered her face with her sleeve.

Valorian stood. “It seems my song of warning has been ignored.”

Bron took a deep whiff, his dark eyes staring at the trees in a menacing challenge.

“What is the meaning of this ill-fated breeze?” Danika pulled Nip to her side.

“Grab the horses and prepare the carriage.” Bron drew out his claymore. The steel reflected the dark silhouettes of the pines, framed with patches of shadows. “We’re being followed.”

A Perceptive Boy

They rode as swift as the wind blowing across the sea and silent as an unspoken secret. As a farmer’s son, Bron’s experience lay in hauling heavy shipments in carriages, and he knew the maximum speed of the horses and the berth the wheels needed for each bend in the trail. When they’d rested, he’d rubbed woodwork oil on the joints to keep the wheels from creaking like toads in the bog.

Bron kept checking over his shoulder but the forest refused to surrender its secrets. Since camp, the air held no trace of hunters. They rode into the wind, and anything trailing them would have the advantage. Bron had only smelled that redolent stench once in his life, and that time it meant trouble. So, why did he wonder if he’d suffered from some paranoid delusion?

It was because the princess’ life hung in the balance, and he did not--would not--fail again. Even if it meant he played the fool.

Valorian had made a jest of his urge to hide the carriage, and surely the pretentious minstrel thought Bron’s assumption of someone, or something, hunting them to be superfluous as well.

God’s willing, the long-haired pretty boy was right.

Bron would rather be proven wrong by Valorian than have anything or anyone endanger the mission.

Valorian rode side by side with the princess, like two love birds acquainting themselves. A thorn twisted in Bron’s side, and he did what he did best: ignored the pain. Ushering Danika into Valorian’s arms was the right move for the kingdom, and if everything the minstrel said rang true, his hand in marriage would keep her and Ebonvale safe.

So, why did seeing her with Valorian irk him so?

The memories of the past surged like ghosts, peering over his shoulder. Even now, he felt King Artemus’ pain. Bron couldn’t protect him from heartache.

The warrior sighed. This was an entirely different situation. Danika wasn’t married or even promised to anyone else. She was free to give her hand to whomever she chose. Or whomever provided Ebonvale with the best protection.

They passed under an overhanging bough and Bron ducked, pulling Nip down with him. Just in case. Needles rained on top of them, prickling Bron’s neck as they brushed the lowest branch.

“Horred’s Temple! That was close.” Nip’s eyes widened as he turned back to see the branch whipping in the air.

Bron ruffled the boy’s hair, threading out the needles with his awkward sausage-thick fingers, better for wielding a weapon than a gentle caress. Then he swiped his own neck. “Where does a boy your age learn such language?” If he’d spoken that curse in his house, his father would have stuffed soap in his mouth.

Nip shrugged. “Pill.”

Bron raised an eyebrow in question.

“My older brother.”

“Of course.” No other name would complement Nip’s so well. Bron wondered where potty-mouthed Pill was now then remembered the blackened village they’d left behind. He thought of Hule and thanked Helena his brother lived safely in Oaten’s Dell, looking after their aging parents. Fate had been kind to Bron, and he should be more thankful instead of dwelling on unattainable quests.

Nip tugged on Bron’s pinky finger. “Are you thinking about the princess?”

Bron blinked and straightened as if Nip had splashed cold water up his nose. “Why do you ask?”

“Because you have the same expression on your face Pa had when Ma was angry with him and he couldn’t do anything about it.”

Nip’s comment amused him. Bron’s lips curved into a smile. “Do you think the princess is angry with me?”

Nip shrugged and picked at a splinter in his sword. “Like Pa used to say.” His little voice grew grumbly, as if mimicking an older man’s. “If she wasn’t mad sometimes, she wouldn’t care.”

“Care about what?” The conversation had shifted into strange territory and an uneasy feeling crawled across Bron’s shoulders.

Nip flicked the splinter into the trees. “’Bout you.”

Horn of the Undead

Day gave way to shadowy twilight, and the forest grew dark with lurking threats.

Danika’s horse heaved underneath her. Although the minstrels had lent her a fine stead, the stallion slowed with fatigue. Valorian’s horse slackened as well, struggling to keep pace in the patches of filtering moonlight. Even Nip’s horse dragged its hooves and he had hardly ridden the beast all day.

Surely, whoever followed them couldn’t have tracked them this far. Even so, staying to fight would give their horses much needed rest. Either way they’d have to confront their pursuers. Running made Danika feel like a fugitive. She pulled back on the reins as they broke through into a clearing where the white moon illuminated the glade. “Enough.”

Valorian followed her lead. He jumped from his horse and offered the stallion water from his sheepskin.

Danika sniffed and pulled up by his side. “The air smells clear.”

He held the sheepskin to her horse’s steaming muzzle. “You forget we are upwind.”

Valorian slid his hand into a secret pocket in his vest and brought out a dagger with an ivory hilt carved with the same spirals that decorated his lute. He handed her the silvery blade. “Be careful.”

She had her long sword, but she wasn’t about to refuse another weapon. “Thank you.” Danika slipped the blade into her boot. Why would a minstrel carry such a weapon? She thought music was all they needed for protection.

Bron caught up and the carriage rumbled to a halt. He leapt from his seat as if he’d awaited this moment all day.

Danika rushed to him, drawn to his strength. “Are they gone?”

A flock of starlings took flight from the forest behind them. All eyes turned toward the darkness between the trees. Bron shrugged. “Better to be safe than slayed. We’ll set up a perimeter defense using the carriage and the bags of rice.”

Valorian lit torches as Bron stacked the bags against the carriage on either side. Danika grabbed Nip’s sword as he swung the blade at the low-hanging branch of a tree. “Get in the carriage and stay there until morning.”

“I want to fight.” Nip pouted with his lower lip jutting out. He looked so adorable, she had a hard time saying no.

“We need to keep you safe so you can lead us to Darkenbite. Remember, you’re our guide.”

“I cannot leave Thunderhooves unguarded.” Nip struggled to cross his arms and hold his sword.

Danika furrowed her brow. “Who?”

“The boy’s horse.” Bron unsheathed his claymore and swung the blade in an arc over his head, stretching his muscles.

“I named him myself.” Nip stared at her as if she would deny him the ridiculous name. She almost did. He hadn’t spent more than half the day on the saddle before he lost interest and wanted to fiddle with his sword. Now he’d give his life for the beast? More likely he used the horse as an excuse.

Danika smoothed the wild hair on the boy’s head. “Thunderhooves will be fine with the other horses. This is no place for a little boy, no matter how courageous.”

Nip bit his lip. “I’m strong enough.”

“Yes, you most definitely are.” Valorian handed Nip a pendant with an emerald framed in gold. The stone caught the firelight of the torches, sparkling. “Here. You stay in the carriage and keep this safe from robbers.”

Nip’s eyes widened. “What is it?”

Valorian smiled. “On the back is the royal crest of the House of Song, a lyrebird. The insignia proves I’m their prince and the rightful heir.”

“Whoa!” Nip held the amulet close to his heart. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep it safe.” He ran to the carriage and shut the door.

“You have a kind way with children.” Danika gave a gentle smile.

Valorian brought out his lute and grinned. “If only my charms worked on Bron.”

Primal hoots from the forest stifled Danika’s laugh before the sound left her throat. Bron aimed the tip of his sword into the shadows. “Let them come.”

Beside her, Valorian breathed deeply. He strummed an open chord on his lute, opened his mouth and sang. His honeyed tenor voice echoed through the woods, challenging the darkness with light.

“Who so thrives to hunt this night

Rest your wearied souls.

For a sweet languor

In the eve’s stillness

Lingers to console.”

She drew out her long sword, a miniature replica of her father’s blade with the silver pommel formed in a lion’s head and three rubies lodged in the hilt. Her blade wasn’t as thick as the late king’s, but the lighter bulk allowed her swift movement for quick, superficial cuts. As Bron had taught her, she needed all her weight behind her to lodge the tip through a man’s heart.

Hulky shapes formed in the shadows. Pairs of red eyes glowed. The air reeked of rotten eggs, rancid sweat and wet dog. Heavy breathing penetrated the night, the sound much like prowling hounds closing in on mouthwatering prey.

“Kobolds.” Danika coughed, bracing herself for the fight. Smarter and leaner than trolls, their stench alone could kill a man.

The leaves rustled around them, then silence. Not one of the monsters stirred.

“Why aren’t they coming out?” Bron shook his sword at the woods in a challenge.

Danika shouted over the next refrain. “Valorian’s music holds them back.”

“I bid you flee the flames of foes

Whose sharp blades cut the thickest hide.

This battle cannot be won with numbers,

Spears or forceful pride.”

Bron tightened his grip on the hilt. “He cannot sing all night.”

Valorian’s song had calmed Danika, as well as the beasts in the forest. With steady hands, she gripped her sword and pushed toward the nearest pair of eyes. “Then we’ll cut them down one by one while they’re spell-bound.”

She reached the first silhouette and raised her sword. Beside her, a massive shape twice the size of the carriage barreled through the front line and broke into the clearing. Legs like hairy tree trunks stomped the grass and rumbled the food in Danika’s stomach.

The kobold carried an axe with a blade as long as Danika was tall, the sharp edge glinting in the moonlight in the places between the smears of dried blood. Human skulls clattered in a chain hanging around his neck. A single horn protruded from his forehead in a sharp, spiraling twist.

Valorian increased his volume, practically shouting the refrain as the beast swiped at her and Bron. They ducked and rolled as the axe hit the first row of trees. Branches crashed around them, one of them falling on the carriage. Danika thought of Nip and prayed to Helena and Horred for the boy to have enough sense to stay put.