Child of the Knight

Chapter One

Hadde and Calen’s horses cantered along the eastern Kiremi plains. Tall, green late summer grass rippled under a hot west wind. Hadde had no doubt another storm would roll in, but it wouldn’t bring any relief from the brutal heat. None of the summer storms had.

The low ridge they rode along gave a wide view to the west. There were no Kiremi nomads to be seen, to Hadde’s relief. She had no desire to run into them. You couldn’t tell a friendly Kiremi from one with ill intent until it was too late.

Only a week ago a large raiding party had been seen near the edge of the forest. They posed a great threat to any Landomeri village near the edge of the forest. But in two days, it wouldn’t matter any more. Hadde, her family, all of Long Meadow would be gone, departed their village for their new home in the ancient spiridus city of Belavil. Long Meadow would disappear. Hadde frowned at the thought. The village had been her home for so long now.

To their east, three arrowflights away, the Arewe River sparkled in the sunlight. Just beyond stood the mighty oaks of Landomere. More than anything at that moment, Hadde wanted to be under the shade of those great trees. But they couldn’t see the open plains, or the Kiremi, from there.

Look, Hadde, an aurochs by that gully!

Hadde’s gaze followed Calen’s finger. He was right. A bull had emerged from the fold in the earth, its horns gleaming black in the sunlight. Just as quickly as it appeared, the beast turned and disappeared from view.

Good eyes, Hadde said.

Let’s take it—think of the feast!

Hadde shook her head. No. We aren’t hunting. Let’s finish this scout and get back to Long Meadow. I want to see Enna.

You’ll have little Enna with you the rest of your life. When will you see the plains again? When will you ever hunt aurochs again?

Hadde imagined her daughter’s smiling face. Everyone said Enna looked just like Hadde, except for her eyes. Enna had her father’s brown eyes. Hadde had only lain with Morin once, on the journey to take the Orb of Creation from Akinos. It had been enough.

No, not enough. Akinos healed me with the Orb. He saved me. He made Enna possible.

Hadde took a deep breath, smelling the grass and wildflowers. A long time ago, this had been her home. The plains seemed strange to her now. Too open. A place where enemies could see you from the horizon if you weren’t careful. She would never feel at ease with her daughter living so close to the Kiremi.

Hunting aurochs is no great feat, Calen. It’s finding and tracking a herd that’s the challenge. Even you could hit a bull—it’s that easy.

Hey!

And how will we get it back? she asked, smiling at her young apprentice.

We’re only a day from Long Meadow. We’ll bring back help. There was an excited gleam in his eyes, but it was the last thing Hadde wanted to do at that moment. I can’t believe you are passing on an opportunity to take an aurochs, he said.

The Wasting is over, Hadde said. We aren’t starving any more.

But… but… the trader. The Saladoran trader said he would be back just after midsummer. He said he would trade well for an aurochs’s hide. Think of poor Maret, and how much she would love to have some fine Saladoran linen to work with. His grin widened with the strength of his argument.

Hadde sighed. We’ll take a look, but that’s it.

With a whoop of joy Calen put his heels to his horse’s flanks and raced off toward the gully. His horse left a dark path in the tall grass.

Go, Quickstep! Hadde urged her own horse after Calen’s.

Calen drew his bow from its saddle case as he approached the gully. Hadde hoped he was just being cautious. His headlong approach slowed and his horse’s path curved to the right. Hadde smiled. It was not what Belor would have done. He would have charged right to the edge and loosed a furious hail of arrows at his quarry. She couldn’t help but smile at the memory of him.

They were a half arrowflight from the gully when a furious bellow sounded from the hollow. A terrifying animal scream followed it. Not a scream of fear, but one of anger. Calen pulled his horse up short. Hadde joined him.

A cloud of dust rose from the gully as another bellow pealed. And then, not a scream, but a roar.

What is it? Calen asked.

More than one aurochs, Hadde said.

And the other sound? A great cat?

I think so. Hadde spun Quickstep in a tight circle, scanning their immediate surroundings. The gully ran twisting off to the west, but otherwise the plains were clear. She drew her own bow from its case. They don’t usually hunt alone.

It sounds more like a battle to me, Calen said. Not a hunt.

Hadde nodded. More dust and noise arose from the hollow. We’ll take a look. Be wary.

The two riders approached the gully, now with arrows nocked. The din rose as they neared. At first Hadde couldn’t make out what was happening through the dust and chaos.

Four bull aurochs roared and bellowed as they circled at the base of the gully. They had something trapped.

One charged. Hadde’s skin crawled at the scream of rage that greeted the attack.

The aurochs pulled up short and retreated.

It’s a great cat, Calen said.

He was right, Hadde saw. The circling giants had trapped the big cat. Normally the cat was the hunter, but this one had somehow become isolated and the aurochs had turned against the predator.

The cat killed one, Hadde said. A small bull lay dead, blood turning the dust into mud in a pool around its head.

Why doesn’t it run? Calen asked. It could break free.

Again, Hadde scanned the vicinity for any sign of the cat’s sisters. Fifty strides to her left the gully turned. A pack of great cats could emerge in moments, and she didn’t want to be there if they did.

I don’t like this gully, Calen. The fight will attract the pack.

There! A cub, Calen said.

Hadde looked to the cat. A terrified cub stood mewing under his mother. That’s why she won’t leave, she said.

The mother will be killed, Calen said. Look, they’ve already gored her. She should run or they’ll have her.

She can’t run. They’ll kill the cub in a few heartbeats. She’d heard her father tell of it long ago. A bull would never leave a cat alive.

They’ll both die if she stays, Calen said. She should run and live to have another litter.

Hadde glared at Calen. What in Helna’s name do you know about it?

He flinched at her words. What are you so mad about? She’s just a stupid beast and she and her cub will die.

She’s a mother, you akinos. She won’t run.

The plains cat screamed in fury as an aurochs charged home. The cat leapt forward to meet the attack, only to be crushed to the ground by the weight of the aurochs’s massive horned head.

Still the cat fought on, all four clawed paws tearing at the aurochs’s neck and shoulders. Sabre toothed jaws clamped down on the great beast’s face, but the bull did not relent.

Hadde pulled some tension into her bow. She would kill the bull and save the cub. Calen doesn’t understand. He can’t.

The aurochs bled from a score of wounds, but it made no attempt to retreat from the cat’s death embrace. The cat writhed, bound to the bull’s head. She was weakening. She would die. Her cub would die.

And then an arrow appeared in the great cat’s flank. She writhed in pain, partially losing her grip on the bull’s head. Anger filled Hadde and she filled her lungs to shout at Calen, but when she turned she saw his bow across his saddle. He stared into the gully, a quizzical look on his face. And then two more arrows struck the ground at their horses’ hooves.

A dozen Kiremi galloped from the gully a hundred strides distant. Ride! Hadde shouted. Kiremi! In a heartbeat she and Calen wheeled their horses and raced for the Arewe River and the safety of the Great Forest. The Kiremi wouldn’t go there, not without greater numbers.

Hadde and Calen galloped across the plains. As she rode she twisted in her saddle, looking for the Kiremi. They were almost an arrowflight behind. A few of the younger warriors loosed arrows high into the air. Long shots with flight arrows. There was nothing she could do. At that range it would just be ill fate if one struck her.

When the arrows missed their mark, all but two of the Kiremi slowed. Those two, young men on fast horses, raced headlong after Hadde and Calen.

The river was only forty strides across, but it would slow them. Maybe enough for the Kiremi to approach for closer shots. Turn! Turn and fight! Hadde shouted to Calen. He was just ahead of her and his head turned as if he had heard her. If they killed the two fastest Kiremi, she and Calen would be clear to cross the Arawe in safety.

Hadde turned Quickstep hard to the left so that she could shoot across her body. She drew a flight arrow and loosed it at the nearest pursuer. He was closing at a full gallop. When her arrow struck his horse, both horse and rider fell tumbling into the tall grass.

The second pursuer turned to give chase, but Hadde halted Quickstep and charged. The Kiremi fumbled with an arrow as he attempted to nock it. He was young. Hadde knew as she raced toward him that she would see no warrior tattoos on his face.

Another boy. Not another boy. Just for an instant she saw the anguished face of the half-starved Kiremi boy she had shot almost two years ago.

Hadde nocked a heavy broadhead as she raced toward the Kiremi, her thumb ring securely locked on the string. His eyes were round with fear as he fumbled with his arrow, but still he came on.

If he flees he’ll never become a warrior. He knows it.

Hadde rose in her saddle as they closed on each other. At twenty strides she drew and took aim. His face was wreathed in fear and expected pain.

For just an instant, she thought she’d let him live. She couldn’t take the risk. Enna needed her. Hadde loosed the arrow. It flew true, striking him in the chest. In a blur she was past him and riding for the river.

For a few heartbeats she didn’t dare look back. When she did, the Kiremi horse galloped on riderless. The boy had disappeared into the sea of grass.

Another boy dead.

Calen was almost across the river. He had never turned back to help her. He watched her now, his horse motionless in the shallows. Hadde rode towards him.

Behind her the Kiremi had gathered near the gully. Maybe a score of them. They were in arrow range, but none loosed at her. A few shot arrows into the gully behind them. The mother cat, for all her bravery was surely dead. And so was her cub. Hadde grimaced at the thought. She only wanted her cub to live.

Six Kiremi sat on horseback facing Hadde. They held their bows by the lower limb, raising them high above their heads saluting her.

Saluting me for killing one of their boys.

Quickstep splashed into the river. Hadde slowed the horse to a walk as they crossed. It would not be very deep. She kept half an eye over her shoulder, watching for the raiders.

You killed them both, Calen said. It was the last thing Hadde wanted to hear. How do you do it?

What do you mean? I shot them. Did I have a choice?

Your arrow went right through him. I don’t know if I could do it.

Hadde closed her eyes against the image. She’d seen arrows pass through large game before, but couldn’t bear the thought of her arrow doing that to a boy. Even a Kiremi. She couldn’t put it out of her head.

Why didn’t you help? She didn’t try to take the edge from her voice. I saw you turn your head when I shouted. The water lapped around her knees, but that was as deep as it got. She halted Quickstep closer to the Landomeri bank and let him drink.

I didn’t know what you wanted. And when I looked back again it was too late.

It wasn’t too late. I might have needed you.

I’m sorry, huntress. He looked down, not meeting her gaze. I won’t… I won’t let it happen again. I swear it.

Hadde turned and watched the Kiremi, but they showed no sign they meant to attack. One rode off toward the riderless horse. What do you want to be, Calen? A hunter, right?

More than anything.

You stalk game better than anyone in Long Meadow. And you certainly are a better tracker than I am. You are an excellent shot. But there is more to being a hunter. Hunters must defend the village.

He paused a moment. Aren’t you ever afraid, Hadde?

I am. Sometimes more than others. But I do what I have to.

I’ll never be as good a killer as you. He looked away from her, out across the plains.

Is that what I am? A good killer? She tapped Quickstep’s flanks and rode into the forest. He died. The arrow flew true and he died.

The shade of the oaks fell over her. This was home. The Kiremi plains were a foreign place to her now. A place owned by enemies.

What about the Kiremi? Calen asked from behind her.

They won’t follow. They fear the forest too much. We’ll stay alert.

We could go straight home. Calen’s tone was hopeful. We should warn them of the Kiremi.

Hadde took a deep breath. She’d like nothing more. She hadn’t been away from little Enna for this long since her birth nine months ago.

Why did I rush back to being a huntress? I didn’t even nurse my Enna. She’ll think Maret her mother more than me.

Yes, she said. We’ll head home.

And then we’ll move to Belavil. Deep in the forest and far away from the Kiremi or anyone else who might threaten us.

Chapter Two

Bright summer sunlight streamed through the cottage window. The day was hot, as so many had been, but at least a breeze blew through the open windows, giving Maret some relief. It wouldn’t be long before the shade of Landomeri oaks fell over her cottage.

Maret took the sleeping Orlos from her breast and buttoned her dress. My little prince, she said. My chubby little prince. She couldn’t help smiling at him. He was a wonderful baby in every way.

Of course everyone said it was because he was a spiridus child—the spirit child of Orlos. The spirit’s return had brought life back to Landomere, they said. Maret wasn’t sure what to think. She knew for certain that Orlos had given his life saving her on her death bed. His voice had told her that her child was now his, and not that of her rapist.

She looked into Orlos’s sleeping face. He didn’t seem any different than any other baby. At least he didn’t seem like a magical spiridus baby. Maybe life has come back to the forest because the Wasting is over, Bumplekin. Maybe that’s it.

The door eased open and Grandma Enna, stepped through. She had her granddaughter on her hip. Little Enna pulled on her grandmother’s long, greying braid, but the older woman hardly paid her any attention.

She’s hungry already? Maret asked, letting just a hint of exasperation into her voice.

She just had some porridge, if you can believe it. Our little wood spirit is being quite the good girl. She smiled and gave little Enna’s nose a playful poke. For a change, right dear?

This one will sleep for a while, Maret said, looking down at Orlos.

I came because we have visitors. Did you hear them arrive?

Maret shook her head. I didn’t hear anything. Visitors? But we sent out word—

No, not Landomeri. They are Saladorans. Here to see you, they said. The trader Johas brought them.

Saladorans? Here in Long Meadow? Maret’s heart stuttered. Who are they? Why have they come?

They wouldn’t say. But their leader said it was important he speak with you. His name is Grax. Sir Grax.

Maret thought a moment. Baron Grax? Her heart sank as she said the words.

He didn’t say. Is there a problem, Maret? You look ill.

Maret glanced towards the door, suddenly fearing he might enter the cottage. Baron Grax was Earl Waltas’s uncle.

Waltas? Enna paused in thought. Not the man who…

Maret nodded, her free hand going to her scarred face. She pushed back against the memory of fear and pain. The memory of Waltas and his dagger.

Enna went to the door and peered out. He’s speaking with Arno. There doesn’t seem to be anything amiss. She turned back to Maret. I’ll warn Arno. Should we send this Grax off?

Maret stood, careful not to jostle the sleeping Orlos in her arms. She joined Enna, keeping well out of view. Arno showed no signs of concern as he talked to the Saladorans. A small group of Landomeri stood with Arno and the three Saladorans in the shade of a young oak that grew near the village square.

Maret saw Johas, the wiry trader she had met months ago, his face tanned by years out of doors. A man who had to be Grax stood near him. He wore fine blue linen trousers and a linen tunic in darker blue. His black felt hat was turned up on one side and sported a trio of white swan feathers. His face, shaded by the hat, was hard to make out. She thought she saw Waltas in it. An older Waltas, perhaps.

Grax wore a short sword in a silver inlaid scabbard, but was otherwise unarmed. He had the look of a soldier, and someone who was used to command.

The third man was taller and wore mail. He stood just behind Grax’s right shoulder and wore a broadsword at his belt. A crossbow hung from a strap over his shoulder. A man-at-arms. Grax’s bodyguard she supposed. He wore no tabard or badge, though, which was odd. If he was Grax’s man he should be wearing his arms.

He didn’t say what he wanted? Maret asked.

Just to speak with you.

It makes no sense. Maret had never imagined any Saladoran would make the journey to see her. She had no close family, except for a father who had become one of Akinos’s eternals. And she didn’t even know if he still lived.

You don’t have to speak with him.

Maret paused and thought a moment. No. I want to know why he is here. And I don’t want him coming back again. I’ll speak with him.

Is it safe? Enna asked, her brows furrowed as she met Maret’s gaze. I don’t want you at risk.

It should be. But then I should have been safe from Waltas. Would you tell Arno that Baron Grax cannot have his man with him if I am to meet with him? And he must be unarmed and it must be in the open. With Arno near, if that is acceptable to him. And to you.

Of course it is. I’ll tell them. Will you take little Enna? She’s beginning to fuss. I’ll take her back when I come for you. Enna winced as her granddaughter pulled at her ear.

Maret placed the sleeping Orlos in his rocking bed and took the squirming girl. Maret watched through the open door as Enna approached Grax. She took her husband aside for a moment and whispered to him before the two of them approached Grax.

They spoke for a moment and then Grax nodded and removed his sword belt. He glanced in Maret’s direction and she wondered if he could even see her in the dark doorway. Grax gave the weapon to his man-at-arms.

As Enna returned to the cottage Arno and Grax stood under the tree. The two other Saladorans and the remaining Landomeri retreated toward the village center.

He agreed right away, Enna said. She took little Enna from Maret’s arms. Arno will be right there with you.

Thank you. Maret gave Orlos a quick glance before walking out the door into the sunlight. She suddenly felt self-conscious. Her green linen dress, salvaged from one she had brought from Sal-Oras, rose all the way to the top of her calves, and had no sleeves at all. She hastily did up the last of the buttons; she hardly ever bothered as she so often had to undo them to feed the children. And I have no veil. She almost stopped.

I’ve become Landomeri. But I feel naked in front of this Saladoran. She suddenly longed for a real Saladoran dress, or one that would at least hide her lower neck and calves. It would be ridiculous in the summer heat, but it still seemed proper.

She couldn’t turn back now. She lengthened her stride. She would not cower in front of Waltas’s uncle.

Grax smiled as she approached. He removed his hat and bowed low to her. Arno stood a few strides away, his hands on his belt. A belt that held a long hunting knife.

Maret stopped four strides from Grax. She could see the family resemblance to Waltas now. The same hawk features. Grax was older, though. Middle aged, and when he removed his hat she saw the grey at his temples.

Lady Maret, Grax said, it is my great honor to meet you. He took a step forward, saying, May I kiss your hand?

Maret flinched and Arno took a big step forward, his hands leaving his belt and forming two large fists.

Grax stopped, holding his hands high. I am truly sorry, he said. Maret saw his gaze glance over her scarred face. I know why you are afraid. I am ashamed of my nephew and sorry for what he did to you.

Maret swallowed and nodded. Why… why have you come here? Just to apologize?

Grax glanced from Maret to Arno and back. Yes. First and foremost, yes. My nephew was a powerful man. But… he was not right. I am most sorry to say that you were not the first woman he… hurt.

Then why wasn’t he stopped? Is there no honor in the South Teren? Maret’s face flushed. Do you not stand up for your women?

I tried. I swear I did. He placed his hand on his heart. I brought charges against him. But Waltas was second in line of succession to the Ducal Seat. He claimed I only worked against him to advance my own position.

You were third in line?

I was. In the end I was forced to leave for my western estates, north of Landomere.

And you are saying he mutilated other women? He… he forced himself upon other women and Duke Avran allowed him to go free?

They were not noble women, lady. He never attacked a noble woman before.

Before me.

Grax nodded. He was not stupid about his… behaviors. I never had all the evidence I needed against him.

You should have challenged him to a combat of arms.

Grax bowed his head. I am eternally ashamed I did not. It was an act of cowardice that I ran to my estates. And that is, in the main, why I am here.

Maret attempted to hide her doubt and keep her expression blank. It was not a common sight to see a knight of Salador admitting to cowardice. His words were contrite, but she didn’t see it in his eyes. His eyes were hard.

Perhaps through good deeds you will rise above this dishonor, Maret said. It was as charitable as she could manage. She would never fully recover from what had happened to her.

Grax brightened. Exactly. And that brings me to my second reason for being here. He paused and glanced at Arno. Could I, just for a moment, speak with the Lady Maret alone?

Arno crossed his arms and frowned. He glanced at Maret. She swallowed her nervousness. Grax was unarmed, and seemed truly regretful. He was no Waltas, but he was still a man of Salador, and she had lost her faith in them.

No, Baron Grax, she said. I want Arno with me.

Grax stood taller. Lady Maret, I am a man of honor—

You may leave, Maret said. Get on your horses and leave. I will never trust—

This is about your son.

Maret’s eyes narrowed. What about my son?

You, and your friend, Hadde, both had children at the same time.

Yes.

Johas said that when he was here he heard that Hadde’s daughter is Prince Morin’s child.

Maret’s heart lurched in her chest. They never should have let that story get out of Long Meadow. Hadde’s daughter is none of your business.

Grax nodded. I understand. A bastard birth is not a comfortable topic. He paused. I’m sorry, but I must ask you a question. And I only ask because it is of great importance. Your son, he is Earl Waltas’s child?

Maret flushed and took a step back. Scowling at her own weakness, she stood taller. He attacked me and put his seed in me. He also took his knife to me. I nearly died, but Orlos the Spiridus saved me. Orlos gave his life to save mine, and at the same moment he put his spirit into my child. My son is Orlos’s.

I have heard the story, Grax said. He clasped his hands in front of him. But your son was begat with Waltas’s seed.

I said so, didn’t I? Helna forgive me, but I am glad that he is dead. I am glad that Hadde killed him!

Grax held up his hands to appease her. I’m sorry, but I had to be certain. Others vouched for your story, but it was important that I hear it from you.

Others? Who? Who have you spoken to about me?

Three young ladies from the Maiden Hall of Sal-Oras. And the queen.

What? Why?

Earl Waltas’s father died years ago, leaving Earl Waltas second in line to the Ducal Seat. Duke Avran’s son died foolishly in a tournament a year ago. And the Duke himself… the duke has been in poor health for years now and is on his death bed.

Grax took a deep breath. My younger brother, a man of vicious temperament, has discovered a bastard child he claims is Waltas’s. My brother will raise this child to the Ducal Seat if he has his way. It is my brother’s attempt to seize power. But that child is not the true heir to the South Teren. Your son is.

Maret shook her head. Both children are bastards, and the one your brother discovered must be the elder. By Saladoran law, with no trueborn son or daughter, the eldest bastard will inherit.

Your son has the better claim, Lady Maret. The boy my brother discovered was the son of a scullery wench. And there is much doubt that Waltas is even the father. You, however are the daughter of an important earl, and there is no question as to who his father is.

Grax paused. I stand behind your son’s claim. The queen stands behind his claim. Your son will be the next Duke of the South Teren.

Chapter Three

Nidon rested his back against the wooden guardrail on the command deck of the river galley. The day was hot, but a blue and white striped canopy protected the deck from the worst of the sun, and a strong breeze blew from aft. It reminded him of his youth, of days spent on his father’s galley patrolling the northern Treteren River. Or of the rare lazy days when he and his sister would sail the river on a little skiff. But then the Wasting had taken them. All of them.

The Wasting had started slowly, generations ago. It had started so slowly that no one had noticed it at first, thinking it only a few bad growing seasons. But seasons grew into decades. And then, twenty years ago the Wasting had struck with a vengeance. Crops failed, animals died, few children were born, and disease and starvation spread across the kingdom.

No one had known that it was the ancient Akinos causing it by his misuse of the Orb of Creation. And then Hadde had ended it all with a single arrow.

For a moment the battle flashed clear in Nidon’s mind. The whirling chaos of the melee around Akinos’s crippled war wagon, the massive capcaun and their giant maces crushing knights with single blows, the berserk varcolac throwing themselves madly into the fight.

Then King Boradin had fallen and Nidon had taken up the Godshield, Forsvar. Forsvar had filled him with strength and confidence, knowing that the Godshield was there to protect him. He had still felt the blows raining down upon him, but their impact was just a fraction of what it had been before.

The men around him had felt the aura as well. They fought like heroes. But then the varcolac had lifted Akinos to take him clear of Forsvar’s aura, where the power of the Orb of Creation would have healed him and brought the Eternal Knights back into the battle.

Then Hadde’s arrow struck Akinos down. Nidon hadn’t known it at the time. Only when he climbed onto the armored wagon did he see the arrow in the ancient man, and across the field, standing alone, Hadde.

In the distance he had seen Prince Morin, pursuing the Orb.

From that moment everything had gone wrong. Hadde had left for Landomere, just when Nidon had begun to realize what she meant to him. And the queen had taken Forsvar from him, ordering him to pursue the Orb. A pursuit that turned into never-ending war.

Nidon glanced over his shoulder at the four ships following in line. Three hundred men and their horses all returned from war. He closed his eyes and settled against the rail. Water sloshed against the hull, and the large sail flapped in the unsteady breeze. There were murmured voices, but most, like him, rested quietly in the afternoon heat.

Nearby the steering oar creaked as the helmsman made a correction. He was the only other man on the command deck, but Nidon didn’t feel like talking. He adjusted his weight to ease the pain in his hip.

A year and a half of war. I have had enough. I am so tired. Gods, the Rigas Mountains are a Helna-forsaken land.

Images fluttered through his mind. A narrow pass choked by barriers – some natural, some hastily built. And behind them varcolac, giant urias, and Rigarians. From the unassailable heights Rigarians showered arrows upon the advancing army. Varcolac hurled stones that smashed helms and horses’ skulls with equal ease. Men and horses screamed.

When they reached the walls the urias with their giant clubs and armor plates crushed men with single blows. Every day. Every single day.

Until we built our wall. Until they came at us. Gods how they died on our wall. The pass choked with their corpses. The stink of death too much to bear.

Nidon shook his head, and closed his eyes tighter as if it would block his mind’s eye.

Enough! I am done.

And then he thought of her. He pushed his mind to another place. A deep forest glade beside a babbling brook.

She was there, lying on a blanket. She was so beautiful—so different and so beautiful. Her long, black hair was in the braid she always wore, but as he watched she smiled up at him and brushed her hair out until it shimmered like deep black water.

She was tanned from the sun, not like the pale ladies of the court. But her skin was not so dark he could not make out the three little rayed orbs, almost like tiny stars tattooed on her cheek.

Her arms and legs were tanned as well. She certainly didn’t hide her flesh under layers of linen and wool. And there wasn’t much flesh there; he could lift her with one arm. No curves worth mentioning, just lean limbs and muscle. Gods, but he didn’t care. They’ll laugh at the pair we make. But she is beautiful and fights like a wolf and I love her.

He snorted a short laugh. He didn’t care if the helmsman heard him.

Sir Nidon, a young voice asked. Are you awake?

No, Rayne, I am not. Nidon didn’t bother opening his eyes.

But, sir….

I am asleep and having a nice dream. Now go away.

But, Sir Nidon, there are ships in the river ahead of us.

Nidon opened his eyes. His page stood in front of him, hands clasped together. Despite the red uniform of a Page of the House he still looked the ragamuffin Nidon had rescued from the stables. He had shown some gumption though, following the army out to the battle at King’s Crossing. It was a good thing Hadde had saved him.

Will you ever learn to comb your hair? Nidon asked. You are the Champion’s page.

Rayne unclasped his hands and ran his fingers through his unruly hair, but if anything he only made it worse. Sir Nidon, the boats are blocking our way. The ship’s captain sent me back to tell you.

It appears so, the helmsman said. Four war galleys.

Nidon grimaced as he got to his feet. Pirates? he asked.

They fly the queen’s colors, the helmsman replied.

A greeting, perhaps. Nidon stared downriver and saw the four galleys in the distance.

Not in that formation, Champion.

The man was right. The four galleys had formed in line, blocking the river ahead of them. Beyond the ships, well downriver, he saw the walls of Mor-Oras. He hadn’t realized how close they were to the city.

In Forsvar’s name, can’t anything be easy?

Down sail! the captain ordered from the foredeck, his voice clear across the deck. Man your sweeps.

Nidon glanced over his shoulder and saw oars extending on the next ship in line.

And one more delay.

Nidon went down the five steps to the main deck and strode toward the bow. He tried not to favor his bad hip; he couldn’t stand the idea