Warrior (12 page)

any other, was Vulcan’s right hand.

Where Vulcan was brash, Varian was

quick to analyze and advise; where

Vulcan

preferred

to

use

brute

strength, Varian preferred to use his

mind to outwit the enemy.

That more than anything was the

reason why Varian, along with five

Morden warriors, was hidden in the

forest behind Castle St. Ives, waiting

for something to happen that would

give away the secret to breeching

those walls. On the first day, Varian

had noticed that all of the trees

seemed to grow wild everywhere

except for near to a certain patch of

ground. That had been the secret

pathway. From that day, he and some

soldiers had been sitting in the forest,

waiting for any occurrence that would

indicate the secret entrance and how

to open it. On this day, they’d been

sitting for over six hours, watching

and waiting. No one spoke; all eyes

were alert. When Varian was about to

suggest sending in new warriors to

replace the ones that had been with

him for hours, he heard a creak and a

tree moved.

If the soldiers hadn’t seen it with

their own eyes, they would not have

believed it. One of the trees next to

the back of the castle pushed forward,

as the wall seemed to slide inward

before swinging outward. A smile

touched Varian’s lips.

A soldier stepped out first, sword

drawn, as he scanned the area.

Another stepped out behind him and

did the same. After minutes of

scanning the area, they motioned to

someone inside of the castle. As

Varian watched on, one, two…five

horses were led through the secret

passage. Two soldiers, dressed from

head to toe in dark garb, were seated

upon the last horses, while the other

soldiers walked beside their horses.

Varian’s

interest

was

piqued

immediately. His eyes narrowed as he

looked at the two soldiers on the

horses. Why weren’t they walking,

like the rest? And where was their

armor? His eyes took in their garb,

dark blue or black to blend with the

night, and then he looked to their feet.

Small feet covered in leather boots.

He took in their builds once more—

small build, small feet, kid boots

—
women
. As the procession made its

way deeper into the forest, about five

more soldiers, these on foot, trailed

behind them. Two women, followed

by a procession of armed soldiers,

could only mean one thing. The

princesses were trying to escape.

Varian waited until the secret door

came forward once more and the tree

resumed its place before he turned

and motioned the men to retreat. On

silent feet, they crept back to the

camp of lit torches and ever-ready

soldiers. If the Lytherians thought for

one second that they would outwit

them, they were about to learn very

differently.

***

Malcolm was the first to mount his

horse as they cleared the forest and

came along the secret path to the

West. The kingdom of Mitherie was a

good five days’ ride from Lytheria but

once they cleared the city, they could

be sure to get there. The Lytherian

countryside was fiercely loyal to the

St. Ives and they would spend nights

at different manor houses and castles

until they reached Mitherie. Malcolm

was for the most part glad that the

princesses were riding out, but as

usual, he was upset that Jaisyn’s

stubbornness had once more kept her

from seeing clearly.

When he’d entered her chambers

three nights back, after knocking for

long minutes, and found her missing,

Malcolm had instinctively known

Jaisyn had gone to the Morden camp.

If not for his frantic search and the

subsequent rescue, she would have

probably been killed, or worse. When

he’d confronted her about the large

tear at the top of her dress, she’d

become defensive and he’d dropped

the topic, still seething in rage as he

thought of what could have caused

that tear. And when he’d put forth the

proposal to remove the princesses

from Lytheria before Vulcan’s army

figured out the secret entrance, she’d

agreed, stating that her sisters should

go but she would remain.

Malcolm, although seriously feeling

the need to knock her senseless and

tie her to a horse, bowed to her will

and told her that he would find loyal

men to convey her sisters to Mitherie.

It was then she told him that she

wanted him to escort her sisters. He’d

refused vehemently, only to have her

question his loyalty to her, something

she did only when she wasn’t getting

her way. They had argued for some

minutes, alone as they were in her

father’s library, before her control had

slipped and tears had pooled in her

bright eyes. Just like that, he’d lost the

battle.

And so here he was, escorting two

princesses to Mitherie while the one

person he really wanted out of that

castle had remained to fight. That

thought alone sent a frightening bout

of rage through his body. He had half

a mind to return and send the

remaining soldiers onward with the

princesses, but he’d given his word.

With a sigh, Malcolm turned to make

sure that everyone was atop a horse

before he gave instructions. They

were going to ride through the night,

until they reached Gisbon, another

Lytherian city, where they’d change

horses at Gibson Castle and continue

on.

He’d barely gotten those instructions

out before one of the soldiers to the

rear cried out. Malcolm spun his horse

around to face the man who was using

his sword to point at something behind

him. His gaze followed the sword and

his eyes widened beneath the helmet.

A stream of curses erupted from his

lips moments before began to shout.

“Protect the princesses at all times!

We’re going to try to outrun them!”

With that, he turned to the

princesses. “Go! Go now!”

Isolde

and

Mathilda,

excellent

horsewomen that they were, both

flattened themselves against their

mares’ backs and kicked them into

gallops.

Malcolm and the other two soldiers

followed directly behind them. The

horses had been running for about ten

minutes before Malcolm recognized

that the Morden soldiers were steadily

gaining on them. He yelled rapid

instructions to the soldiers beside him

and urged the princesses on.

As one, the soldiers pulled their

horses to a halt and turned to face the

oncoming soldiers. Malcolm counted

five Morden soldiers. While it wasn’t

an ideal match-up, five against three

didn’t present terrible odds.

“We’re going to meet them,” he said

hastily, pulling his broadsword from

its scabbard. The two Lytherian

soldiers beside him did the same. “For

Lytheria!”

***

Vulcan could find his brother

nowhere. He’d come back from hours

of hunting with his soldiers and had

wanted an update. He knew Varian

had been in the forest for almost half

of the day, but the soldiers he’d sent

in search of him had returned with

news that he was no longer there.

Two days had passed and Varian’s

plan was not bearing any fruit. While

chasing a wild boar, Vulcan had

decided that another plan should be

drawn up. If they couldn’t find the

secret entrance, there had to be some

other way to make the Lytherians

would lower the drawbridge for them.

They just had to find it, and that was

why he was searching for Varian. His

brother would think of something.

“My liege!” someone shouted.

Vulcan turned in the direction of the

voice. A young boy, a squire, was

running toward him, out of breath and

red faced. “Some of the horses are

missing.”

Vulcan’s

eyes

narrowed

immediately and he demanded, “How

many?”

The squire drew in a few deep

breaths and said, “Five, liege.”

“Which horses?” Vulcan’s lips had

curled once more into the cross

between a frown and a scowl.

“I don’t know, liege, but I couldn’t

find Loki any—”

Vulcan didn’t need to hear any

more. He immediately went in search

of his generals. Loki was Varian’s

stallion, and almost as large as

Shadowfax. If he’d ridden out with

four other soldiers, someone must

have seen something.

He found General Akos sitting

before the spit, using a stone to

sharpen his sword.

“Some of the soldiers rode out

earlier today. Where did they go?”

Vulcan wasn’t one to have long

elaborate speeches. He was quick in

getting to the point and bedamned to

anyone who didn’t know how to

answer.

“No one rode out—” Akos began,

only to be dragged off of his feet as

his king clenched his fingers around

the placket of his shirt and pulled him

upward. Akos’s eyes widened for a

brief moment but fear never entered

into his gaze. Vulcan would have felt

pride at the man’s bravery had he not

been so angry.

“Where

is

my

brother?”

he

continued menacingly. Akos said

nothing, just continued to stare at

Vulcan with vacant eyes.

“Liege,” someone else was panting

and calling his name. He let go of

Akos and turned to the person. It was

one of his lieutenants. “Lord Varian

and four soldiers rode from camp

about an hour ago.”

“Where?”

Vulcan

continued,

heading in the direction of his stallion.

Shadowfax was no doubt weary from

the hunting excursion but at least he’d

been fed.

“The prince said he was going after

the princesses,” the lieutenant told

him, running to keep up with his long

strides.

Vulcan stopped completely, and the

entourage that followed so closely

behind him bumped into each other to

avoid bumping the already enraged

king.

“
By Rika’s balls
, what does that

mean?”

The

lieutenant

almost

winced,

especially as Rika was one of the gods

of Morden. Vulcan did not use Rika’s

name unless he was angry beyond

reason.

“Lord Varian was in a hurry, liege,”

the lieutenant told him, bracing

himself for a backlash for not knowing

what it meant. “He did not say.”

A muscle in Vulcan’s jaw ticked

visibly and in an attempt to calm

himself, he asked, “Which direction?”

“They headed into the forest, liege.

West,” the lieutenant told him

immediately, and began to run next to

Vulcan once more when he continued

with his stride toward his horse.

A squire was brushing Shadowfax

down when Vulcan walked over. He

immediately backed away after seeing

the look on his king’s face. As soon as

Vulcan was atop his horse, some of

his warriors found their horses as

well, blindly following their king.

Torches were immediately given to

them.

Vulcan began to slowly maneuver

Shadowfax through the tents and to

the forest. He turned to see how many

followed him. Too many.

“Only five,” he said to the general

closest to him. “The rest stand guard.”

With that, he moved Shadowfax into

the dark forest, hoping the light of the

torches would be enough to guide

them through its thick maze.

***

Varian sat atop Loki with a

squirming bundle before him as he