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Raymundo focused on the horse’s pattering hooves because it was the only thing that made sense. The alternative was thinking about how he fled from the royal seat of his queendom with the accused murderer of his principe. Not to mention, that he was leaving Duque Victor Guarin behind, the man he swore to follow.
The duque had asked it of him.
The thought did little to make him feel less like a coward.
He closed his eyes and breathed deep. He inhaled the clean air of Alto, the upper quarter of Alderas, and smelled the citrus trees. The smell reminded him of the tarts that came from his familia’s kitchens. The woman that made them had died a long time ago, and they never found someone who could make them quite the same. Raymundo tried to remember the woman’s name but came up with nothing but the image of her gnarled hands kneading the dough.
What would his father say when he discovered his son was involved in something like this? Raymundo wondered if he would be proud he honored the duque or would he be ashamed that he put the familia name in jeopardy.
Raymundo had a hunch it would be the latter.
Clip, clop. The rhythm of the horse was almost comforting.
“This road is patrolled,” the comandante said at last. His voice was parchment thin. “We have to get off of it as soon as possible.”
Raymundo opened his eyes at the sound of it. It was evident that the man wasn’t well. His time in the dungeon had taken whatever little strength he had.
“Where would we go?” Raymundo asked.
Alto was situated among the highest bluffs of the mountain. It was wide and green with plenty of fruit trees. It was known for its views and color, not for its many roads. It was also a place with the most expensive land in the queendom. Some of the most powerful people in Alderas lived in these bluffs by the grace of the queen herself, and because of it, the roads were wide, few, and well-guarded.
“I know of some back routes through the mountain. They’re small, but we should be able to get through them on foot.”
Raymundo stared at the comandante’s slouching figure. He appeared like a man twice his age.
“Are you sure you can make it?”
“I will make it.”
Behind them, the outline of the castillo was already beginning to blur into the darkness. The light of the fire was gone, leaving nothing behind but the smell of smoke. He never thought that he would ever be an accomplice in setting fire to the symbol of Alderian royalty, but many things were different now.
The moonslight began to falter behind the black smoke, making it hard to see ahead of them. Luckily, they were still able to keep a brisk pace. Raymundo knew from memory that the first of the estates would be approaching soon. The manor stood far enough away from the road that two riders might be able to pass unnoticed, but the longer they stayed on the road, the greater the chance of being caught by passing patrols.
“We stop here.” The comandante held up his hand to signal a stop.
“Here?”
There was nothing to differentiate this piece of road from the last. It was the same stone-paved road. The same trees randomly spread on either side. The same view of inky blackness in front of them.
“Yes, through those trees there. We’ll be crossing onto Vega land, but they won’t see us,” He leaned over to unsaddle his horse and teetered unsteadily.
Raymundo leaped to the ground in one fluid motion and rushed over to steady him. He doubted the comandante was in any condition to walk on any terrain, much less what was bound to be one filled with pitfalls.
“Señor, are you sure you can walk?” Raymundo asked again.
“Yes, son of a whore! I don’t need your help.” The comandante slapped his hand aside and leaped down from his horse. For a moment Raymundo thought he was going to fall, but at the last moment, the man steadied himself by leaning on his horse.
Raymundo, still unsure the comandante could on his feet much longer, kept quiet and let him take the lead. Few people in his life had ever spoken like that to him, none of which was a commons, Comandante of the Crown or no. Raymundo still felt the sting of the slap.
His entire life he had heard stories of this man. If they could be believed, he saved the entire city from the brink of collapse. It was rumored once that he would be rey. An orphan due to marry one of the most beautiful princesa’s Alderas had ever seen. That was a man to be admired.
Raymundo glanced over at the unsteady comandante. Whatever man he once had been was long dead. All that was left was an old, bitter traitor.
Raymundo would take him away from Alto because of his duty to the duque, but his obligation ended there. He was done being an accomplice to this madness.
With this in mind, Raymundo felt better about the whole experience.
The comandante led him through the trees. The night had darkened, and the branches and underbrush made it even harder to see ahead. Alto was a forest on a mountain. It was a gift from the Father and Mother, but right now, it only served to frustrate him. Low branches scraped his face until it was soon covered in tiny scratches. On several occasions, Raymundo stumbled.
By the sound of his low cursing, he doubted that the comandante faired any better.
Despite this, Raymundo noticed the path they followed was mostly even and clear of any stones that might trip their horses. It was clear that this was not the first time the comandante had used this path. Still, he held his horse close.
“Try to keep as quiet as possible. The Vega home isn’t far,” Diego whispered.
The pair seemed to hold their breath as they crept forward. The comandante limped along in silence. The horses’ patter that Raymundo had found so comforting before now sent him wincing at every break of a branch. The beasts, castillo bred and sturdy, walked clumsily through the trees.
Soon, Raymundo was able to see the flat roofs and large windows of the Vega home from his elevated position. The home was smaller than his familia home in Estribacion, but for what it lacked in size, he could tell even in the dark, it made up for in extravagance. The front door was twice as tall as a man and half as wide. The walls, decorated with elaborate pillars, looked as if they were carved from marble.
He would have liked to see it in the light of day.
After what seemed like an eternity, the Vega manor moved out of sight, and the thickness of the brush thinned. Here the soil was rocky and dense. Mountain outcrops encroached on their path making the horse's steps much more dangerous.
“I apologize for what I said on the road. My thoughts are muddled, and sometimes my tongue gets away from me,” the comandante spoke after a while of walking.
Raymundo considered voicing what he thought about this whole affair but realized that there was nothing to gain from it. Instead, he sighed and continued to focus on the rhythmic motions of the horse in front of him.
“I accept your apology. We’re both on edge, I expect.”
“Hmmm,” the comandante agreed.
The path continued increasingly uneven. They maneuvered around the mountain outcrop, practically embracing the rocks so as not to lose their way until they reached a split in the crag. Raymundo stared at it, unconvinced of the way.
The comandante explained that they had to squeeze through. At first, the horses refused this order, but after some coaxing, they were led to the other side. Raymundo was impressed by the way the comandante handled them. They seemed to be soothed by his whispering and nudging.
Perhaps there was something to the stories of the Old Fox, after all.
At last free from the forest, they made their way back onto the road and mounted the horses. After the slow going through the trees, the smooth road was a blessing.
“We’re almost at the gate,” said the comandante.
The wall came closer as the trees thinned all around them. A tingling feeling crept up his back, and his palms began to sweat. They were almost completely exposed now. They would have to make the last of their journey in the open until they reached the other side of the gate and entered Centro.
Even in the dark of night, he was able to see that the portcullis was raised, and a solitary figure stood sentry beside it. Usually, the black tunnel with its murder holes would mean death for any unwanted men looking to cross it, but tonight it meant freedom.
“They’re waiting for us just like at the castillo,” called Raymundo.
The comandante stayed silent behind him. He hadn’t said anything since his apology, and Raymundo noticed that he heavily favored his right side now. The man needed this night to end just as badly as Raymundo did.
Raymundo had been growing increasingly anxious at their slow pace. They should have left Alto a long time ago. The longer they stayed there, the more likely it was that they were captured. Seeing the raised portcullis gave him hope that this terrible night was at its end.
He spurred his horse to go faster.
“Wait—” the comandante called from behind.
“Hurry, we’re almost to the city.” Raymundo couldn’t help but smile. It was almost over. He would go to his father. Maybe they could plead their case to the reina. Perhaps they could say that the duque was misled, or if the comandante really was innocent of treason, then they could insist he get a fair trial. Whatever the case, his father would know what to do.
He approached the gate and waved at the figure. The person at the gate stood motionless.
Raymundo half expected the Alderian greeting, but when the figure said nothing, Raymundo called out himself.
“Oiga! We made it!”
The figure continued to stare, and the closer Raymundo got, the more unsettled he became. The man stood in a drunken slant that should have been impossible to stay in without help.
That’s when he realized his mistake.
“It’s a trap!” Raymundo reared his horse to a stop.
Three men came from within the shadow of the wall. Their long double-ended varsetos pointed high and ready.
“By the order of the Good Reina Isabella De Real, you are to dismount and be escorted back to the castillo.” The man at the forefront spoke in a booming voice that made Raymundo blanch. One of the men pushed the figure—a dead man propped against the wall—aside, and he collapsed in a pathetic heap.
Sounds came from behind, and he turned around to notice three more men had flanked him.
The comandante was nowhere in sight.
“I am here on the business of Duque Victor Guarin. You have no right to block my path,” called Raymundo in the most authoritative voice he could muster, but to his ears it sounded weak and jittery.
The man who had spoken to him sneered.
“I am aware of the treachery of your duque. He ordered my man to betray their reina and allow a traitor to pass. Not on my watch. I’m sure the duque will get what is owed to him. Traitors have no authority here. I won’t ask you again to dismount and surrender, señor.”
Raymundo could tell by their long double-ended spears and emblazoned chest plates, that these were men from the Order of the Guard.
This was the end of it then. He was almost relieved that it was over. If he could just get an audience with the reina, he would be able to explain everything to her. He should have never allowed himself to be led to this. Raymundo dismounted and waited for the guards to put him in chains, but they didn’t move.
“Where is the traitor De la Costa?” the Capitan of the Alto Gate asked.
Raymundo briefly considered keeping silent, but in this case, the truth was just as good.
“I don’t know.”
“We know he was accompanied out here by Guarin’s man. Tell us where he is, and I shall ask for leniency for you.” The capitan lowered his weapon and ushered him forward, almost father-like.
The comandante was probably far away by now, but even if Raymundo had known where he was going, he wouldn’t have revealed it to this man. There was something in the way he puffed out his chest he didn’t like. It was almost as if this capitan was humoring him.
“I don’t know,” he repeated. “I suggest you seek elsewhere.”
Even in the dimness of the moonslight, Raymundo was able to see the displeasure on the capitan’s face.
“Well, that’s too bad.” The man turned to his men, “Kill him.”
The two men beside him stepped forward.
Raymundo instinctively drew his blade and blocked the first thrust of the guard’s spear as it aimed for his chest. His fingers went numb from the shock of the attack. The guard stood back, surprised. He had no idea when he woke up this morning that his life would end a traitor to the crown.
All five men surrounded him, this time ready to thrust and stab past whatever blocks Raymundo could throw at them. Raymundo braced himself and waited for their blows, but a new sound came from behind.
It was the sound of a galloping horse.
The two men in front charged at Raymundo in unison. One swiped low and the other high. Raymundo blocked one with his sword and tried to dodge the other, but the varseto was quick enough to rip into shirt. He held onto his sword, expecting at any moment for the guards behind him to end his life.
In the corner of his eye, he could see the comandante swinging at two men from on top of his horse. One already lay struggling on the ground, dying. The comandante was quicker than any swordsman he had ever seen. His sword was but a blur of silver against the blackness of the night.
He could hear his Maestro-de-Arma’s, his first sword master’s voice in his head. Move quicker than them. Don’t get distracted. The men came at him again, this time with their capitan in tow. Raymundo took two steady steps back and waited for them to attack.
The capitan rushed him.
He charged with his varseto blade. Holding it in both hands, he swung once with one end, and Raymundo blocked it with a shaky grip. His arm felt hot and slick with blood. As smooth as a dancer, the capitan reversed his weapon and hit Raymundo’s sword again with the other end.
Raymundo’s sword clattered to the floor. His shoulders burned with the strength of the blows. He pawed at the ground for his sword but felt nothing. He stood up straight and waited for the final blow.
The comandante charged headlong on top of his horse. He swung with his sword and almost took the capitan’s head clean off. It hung lazily to the side as blood spurted into the air. The other two guards slashed at the horse wildly. The beast reared on two legs to avoid the weapons and sent the comandante flying.
He landed with a thud and remained still.
Both men approached with weapons pointed at the still body. Suddenly, the comandante grabbed one end of the sharp spear and thrust the other end through the chest of the guard holding it. The guard collapsed, pulling at the weapon that now sprouted from his chest, as he died.
The last guard screamed and kicked the comandante in the face. There was a thud, and the comandante went slack.
The guard raised his weapon. It flashed like a star as it waved through the air.
Raymundo, the entire time on the ground, finally found himself with his weapon in hand. He gathered all the strength in his weakening arms and buried it deep into the guard’s back even as the guard towered over the comandante. The man grunted, eyes widened in surprise as a sharp whistling sound escaped him as he struggled for breath. The guard looked casually behind him into Raymundo’s face and collapsed to the ground.
Raymundo’s hands grew slick, and he shuddered once he realized they were coated in sticky blood. He dropped his sword in horror.
He took one look at the carnage around him and vomited, doing his best to avoid being sick all over the bodies.
He wasn’t very successful.