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Noticing his door was slightly ajar, Patrick paused before cautiously opening it. He distinctly remembered closing it when he left and his hand automatically went to the sword in his belt, only to discover he had left it behind.
“What are you doing here?” he asked when he realised the intruder was Marie. She was sitting on the bed, nervously wringing her hands.
“Waiting for you.”
Patrick slowly closed the door, then leaned back against it, his arms crossed. He was not entirely sure he had intended to keep his promise to Ellen when he made it, but breaking it this soon had not crossed his mind.
“I owe you an apology,” Marie continued, refusing to look up at him as she spoke.
Patrick raised his eyebrows. “Why?”
“I saw Ellen take you outside and she did not look happy. I think it is my fault.”
“What if it is?” Patrick asked, unsure as to where this conversation was heading.
Finally Marie raised her head and stopped moving her hands, clasping them together and placing them deliberately in her lap. “She has warned me off you so often that I assume that she has now asked you to keep away from me.”
“Go on,” Patrick instructed.
“I am just here to say there is no need. Please do not misunderstand me. I think you are wonderful. You are so nice to talk with, fun to be around and are absolutely stunning to look at.”
“But,” he prompted when she stopped speaking.
“But I am still in love with my husband. He may be dead and buried, but laying with another man, no matter how attractive he is, will still feel like a betrayal. I am sorry if I have given you any other impression.”
Patrick smiled and walked over to her, sitting himself on the bed next to her. He placed his hands comfortingly over hers and squeezed gently.
“Do not worry,” he assured her. “You have not led me on in any way and I appreciate your honesty. You are a lovely woman and I would be honoured if you would be my friend.”
For once, his words were genuine. He had used that line many times in the past as a way to start a seduction, but this time he planned to keep his promise, if not for Ellen’s sake, then for Marie’s. He sensed deep sadness there and genuinely wanted to help.
“If you do not mind me asking, what is the story behind the marks on your neck that seem to be spreading?”
Momentarily Marie tensed, then she forced her muscles to relax. Patrick was the first man she had felt comfortable being around since she had lost her husband so she decided to trust him.
Marie told him everything, from how she had first met her husband to the fact that she was dying and nobody had managed to find a way to prevent it. By the time she finished her tale all of Patrick’s desire for her had vanished and was replaced by an almost overwhelming need to protect her.
When she stopped talking he pulled her close to him and held her tight. “I will do anything I can to help,” he said quietly and tenderly kissed the top of her head.
“Thank you for being so understanding,” she told him before wiggling out of his embrace, standing up and leaving the room.
Once he was alone, Patrick undressed and got under the blankets, but sleep was a long time coming and when it did he had nightmares all night about things crawling over his skin and smothering him.
The next morning, after everyone had finished eating, Tor called the company together.
“We have something we need to discuss,” he informed them once everyone was seated around the largest table available. “Soon we will reach the border with Dannavon and we need to decide who will continue and who will be left behind.”
This caused shouts of protest from all sides and Tor had to hold up his hand to call for quiet.
“Please, hear me out. As everyone knows, not only is the eastern part of the country rife with bandits, but there are many rumours about provincial fighting and maybe even a civil war. All I am asking you to consider is whether it will be safe to take the ladies with us rather than leave them here and collect them once we have obtained the next clue.”
William was the first to speak up. “Jem and I are seasoned fighters. I do not know how the rest of you are in a fight, but we are a large enough group that between us I am sure we can deter any bandits from attacking.”
“On the other hand,” Jem piped up, “I am more than happy to stay behind to guard the ladies, if that is the group decision.”
Vicky grunted in disgust. “Guard us indeed. We can look after ourselves,” she grumbled, causing both her husband and her son to smirk.
“Nosmas and I can provide protection for Vicky while we are in Dannavon,” Bellak assured Tor. “Though whether we should be protecting her from bandits or bandits from her is a different issue,” he added, just loud enough for his wife to hear him.
“I can vouch for William and Jem’s abilities,” Patrick spoke up. “And you know I can fight.”
“I know you can die,” Tor told him, but smiled as he said it.
Patrick ignored him. “You know how to handle a sword and I am sure you have been teaching Seth, so we can easily look after Ellen, Marie and Hurst.”
Tor looked toward the ladies. “Well? Hurst has to come with us, but you can remain here if you wish.”
Both Marie and Ellen nodded. “We will come with you,” Ellen told him. “We knew before joining this quest that there would be risks.”
“Besides,” Marie added. “You do not know where you will have to go once you have obtained the next clue. You might not be able to come back and collect us.”
“An excellent point,” Tor agreed. He had not wanted to leave anyone behind so soon, but everyone needed to be made aware of the dangers and make the decision to continue for themselves.
He looked around the table and saw everyone looking at him, expectantly. “What are you all waiting for?” he asked. “Go grab your things.”
––––––––
The border crossing from Emvale into Dannavon was uneventful and they saw no bandits during their first day of riding through the countryside. A number of times one or other of the team spotted ragged men hiding by the road, but none were brave enough to attack such a large group.
That night, for the first time since leaving the castle, they had to camp out instead of staying in an inn. During the afternoon they rode through a few villages, but none appeared to have a building large enough to accommodate them all and the locals seems wary of having strangers around, so they continued moving on.
The night was clear and the four magic users assured the group that they could shield them from rain, should the need arise, so nobody objected to sleeping on the ground.
Knowing that accommodation might become an issue, before leaving Emvale Tor had had the foresight to restock with supplies so they had plenty of food. While the ladies prepared the vegetables and Seth started a fire going, Tor and Patrick went hunting, returning with enough hares to feed them all.
When the stew was almost ready, Seth dipped in his wooden spoon and took a mouthful, burning his tongue as he did so. He grimaced, but not from the pain, which he was used to.
“Salt. It definitely needs salt.” He turned his attention to Tor, who was sitting nearby. “You did remember to buy salt I hope.”
Tor had the decency to go red as he shook his head. “I am sure it will taste just as good without.”
Seth muttered at him under his breath. “Next time, Ellen and I will purchase the supplies,” he said loud enough for all those nearby to hear.
“May I suggest adding some of the purple leaves?” Vicky volunteered, pointing to a pile of plant life that had not made it into the pot. “I often use it as a salt substitute.”
Seth broke off one of the leaves and placed it in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. It did, indeed, taste salty and might work.
He quickly chopped up a portion of the plant and stirred it into the mixture, making sure he left a sufficient amount for a second meal should they not have the opportunity to buy anything before he needed to cook again.
Thanks to Vicky’s suggestion, the food turned out to be a lot tastier than Seth had feared and everyone had second helpings. Once it was over, those who had not helped hunt or cook took all of the dirty bowls, spoons and the cooking pot to the stream and washed them clean, using the grit on the bed to scrub off the more stubborn remains of the meal.
That night a double guard was posted, with each duo keeping watch for a few hours at a time. This meant that nobody got an uninterrupted night of sleep, but safety was more of a concern to Tor than tiredness.
They were not attacked during the night and after a quick breakfast they headed out once more. It was slow going as the roads in that area were not well maintained and were full of potholes. Seth had to drive the wagon slowly so he could avoid the worst of them, but some he had to drive through, making the wagon creak and groan as its wheels fell into holes then were dragged out once more.
“This rickety old cart is going to break apart if it has to go through much more of this,” he complained to Tor, but the Prince offered no sympathy.
“You chose it,” he reminded the young man. He did, however, speak to Nosmas and Bellak in case they knew of any strengthening spells they could place on the wood. Losing a wheel in the middle of nowhere would be very dangerous.
At the next rest stop the two men worked together, placing enchantments on each wheel. When they set off once more, Seth was still thrown about as the wagon found holes he could not avoid, but at least it had stopped sounding like it was going to fall apart at any minute.
Due to the slow pace there was no hope that they would reach civilisation before nightfall, so Tor called a halt when they reached a place that would make a good place to stop for the night.
The river which ran close to the road they were travelling along meandered away from the dirt track before looping back on itself, creating a small meadow which was bordered on three sides by fast flowing water.
This meant that the area could be entered from only one direction, so the travellers were effectively trapping themselves inside, but it did mean it could be easily defended.
It was an open space, large enough to easily accommodate them all without being so big they would have to post more than two guards at a time in order to cover the entrance. There were also no trees or large rocks in sight behind which a bandit could hide, making it the ideal campsite.
This, however, did not prevent the attack.
Patrick, Tor and Seth went hunting, looking for something they could roast over a spit, while Nosmas took Vicky and Ellen into the meadow on the far side of the road to search for edible vegetation.
Leaving William behind to guard Bellak and the horses, Jem took Marie and Hurst back down the road to where they had recently passed a small copse of trees and together they collected enough wood to start a decent size fire and keep it supplied with fuel throughout the night.
William made a pile with some dried leaves, covered them with small twigs, then stacked some of the larger sticks in the best way to have a safe fire to cook over, making sure the rest were far enough away they could not accidentally catch light. He then tried to create a spark by hitting his knife against a flint rock. Sparks flew with each strike, but none ignited the tinder.
Bellak sat watching for a few minutes, silently laughing. William noticed that his body was shaking as he tried to suppress his laughter and turned to glare at him.
“I suppose you can do better,” he challenged.
“Watch this.” Bellak stared at the unlit fire, incanted a spell then pointed at the wood. Fire flew from his fingertips, hitting the kindling and making it catch light. Yellow flames licked over the twigs, consuming them, and tried to grab hold of the sticks.
Some of them must have been damp as black smoke started to wind its way upward into the air, dancing in the slight breeze. The wood spat and crackled as it burned, but neither Jem nor William were worried. They both knew it would settle down by the time the hunters returned with the freshly caught meat.
Jem, William, Marie and Bellak were so caught up with maintaining the fire that they did not keep an eye on the road. Hurst was the first to hear approaching footsteps and was in the process of greeting the visitors, assuming them to be members of his own party, when he felt something solid hit the side of his head.
His legs gave way and he was unconscious before his body hit the ground.
Marie, hearing the sound of the log coming into contact with Hurst’s head, looked up and screamed. A man dressed in what used to be a soldiers uniform, but was now so covered in dirt and patches that it was impossible to tell which country it was from, let alone which regiment, was standing over Hurst’s prostrate body. He turned to leer at her, making her scream once more.
Four more men rushed into the campsite, all carrying rusty, dented swords. Jem and William dived toward the wagon as Bellak pulled Marie behind him.
William reached for his flail, cutting deep grooves in the bottom of the wagon as he dragged it toward him. As he lifted the wooden handle with one hand, his other closed around the hilt of his sword.
Jem took hold of his sai, throwing one up into the air and expertly catching it with his left hand as his right curled around the handle of its twin.
The three-pronged weapons sparked in the light of the fire. Though not traditionally used for stabbing, Jem had spent many hours honing the long middle prong on each sai, making them as sharp as a sword.
William lifted his left arm above his head, his hand firmly grasping the handle of the flail, and began to rotate it, causing the two spiked metal balls attached by chains to orbit his head.
Jem placed his legs shoulder width apart, grounded his feet, bent his knees slightly and positioned his sais, prongs facing upward. The two brothers glanced at each other. They were out-numbered and, while they knew they could look after themselves when faced with superior numbers, they also had civilians to defend. The odds of none of them dying were not good.
Seeing two armed men taking fighting stances caused the five attackers to pause, but not for long. As they started to move forward, Bellak shouted out a spell and a red fireball shot into the air. It exploded above them with a loud boom.
“Sending for reinforcements,” he called over to Jem and William who were staring at him in surprise. “Hopefully they will get here before we all die.”
He shot another fireball toward the bandits, who had recovered their senses and were starting to run forward, then dived behind the wagon, dragging Marie with him.
William stepped forward to engage the nearest enemy, raising his sword to block his opponent while swinging his flail. One metal ball hit the bandit in the head, a spike digging deep into the flesh. The crunch of metal against bone was not followed by the expected scream. Death was quick and the man’s lifeless body slid to the ground while the second ball was still swinging.
“One down, four to go,” William panted as Jem stepped past him.
“We need to keep them away from the wagon,” Jem yelled as he lifted his left arm, capturing with his sai the sword that was arching toward his head. He pulled downward and away from his body leaving the bandit no choice other than to do the same, unless he wanted to lose his sword. This exposed his torso, allowing Jem to stab forward with his sharpened weapon. The metal spike slid easily between the ribs, piercing his attacker through the heart.
He quickly withdrew the sai from the dead body and blood spurted up his arm, soaking his hand and making it slippery. He almost lost his grip on his weapon as he flipped it around, using it to protect his arm as he blocked a sword that was aimed at his thigh.
He chanced a glance toward his brother and saw he was facing both of the remaining two bandits. If it was not for the fact they had to both keep stepping back to avoid the flail, he would be dead by now.
Jem’s opponent had learnt from his comrade’s mistake and was using the length of his sword to his advantage, keeping Jem far enough away that he could not put his own weapons to good use.
Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Jem saw movement coming from behind him. Marie ran forward and slashed at the legs of the bandit who was facing him, cutting deep into his flesh. The sound of his scream was drowned out by the sizzle of a fireball passing over their heads and slamming into one of the men attacking William.
The combination of the attack from behind and the fire overhead distracted Jem’s opponent enough to allow him to finish him off before he turned around to assist his brother.
Before he could strike, he heard Marie scream. He swung his head toward her and saw her pointing down the road. When his eyes fell on what she had seen he felt like dropping his sai and surrendering.
A dozen more men were cautiously walking toward them, each armed with sticks and clubs; one was carrying a double bladed axe which looked to have seen better days. There was no way William and Jem could defend against so many, even with Bellak and Marie to assist where they could.
William dispatched the two attackers he was facing then raised his head. He saw the number of fresh bodies approaching and his already tired arms slumped to his side. He did not have the energy to raise them again. There was no point. It would only delay the inevitable.
Seeing both of the ex-soldiers appearing to accept defeat, the approaching bandits raised their weapons as grins spread across their dirty, unshaven faces.
There was a sudden yell from behind and everyone simultaneously turned to look. Tor slashed one of the ragged men across the carotid artery as Patrick stabbed another in the throat, cutting off the warning shout.
Nosmas and Seth ran into the melee, cutting a path through the bandits to Hurst’s inert body. Ellen and Vicky followed close on their heels, trusting the two men to protect them while Ellen examined the old man. She quickly ascertained that he was unconscious, but alive and all of his vital signs were strong. Between them the two women managed to drag him behind the wagon.
William and Jem took up guarding positions and were prepared to defend themselves should any of the bandits disengage from the newcomers and move further into the clearing.
Some of the attackers were experienced fighters and it soon became obvious that their superior numbers would outmatch the defenders unless something could be done to deter them.
Bellak did not dare risk another fireball now that there were so many friends among the enemy and grabbed a club that had fallen onto the ground. He was no warrior, but he felt safer with a block of wood in his hand than a sword.
Seth, Tor, Patrick and Nosmas were each fighting multiple opponents and were slowly being driven backward toward their companions. William and Jem moved forward to assist, but the fight was not going their way.
“This looks like fun,” a voice boomed out and a stranger entered the clearing, swinging his sword professionally around him, wounding a bandit with each stroke. Blood flowed down the metal as it slashed at arms, torsos and heads and the air was filled with screams of pain.
The unexpected onslaught broke the nerve of the bandits and those who were able to, turned and ran. The rest were quickly disposed of; Patrick and Seth put the last two out of their misery while Tor approached their saviour.
“Your Highness,” the man said, bowing his head as the Prince drew near. “I hope I was of some help.”
Tor looked around him at the bodies littering the clearing. “That is one way of putting it.”
He held out his hand, but the stranger refused to shake it. “I should really clean up first,” he observed. “I appear to be covered in blood. None of it mine,” he quickly added when he saw a look of concern cross Tor’s face.
Tor nodded his approval, then turned his attention to his team, assessing injuries, while the man walked over to the stream and plunged his hands into the cold water.
Other than minor cuts and bruises, the only casualty was Hurst, who was beginning to regain consciousness.
“What happened?” he asked, his hand automatically reaching for the wound on his head which Ellen had bandaged up. He winced as his fingers probed the lump beneath the cloth.
“We were attacked,” Jem explained. “They clobbered you round the head before we even knew they were there.”
“Do you feel able to stand?” Ellen asked him. He nodded his head, though he was not certain his legs were yet ready to support him.
Jem took him by the hand and helped him back onto his feet. Those around them gasped.
“Most people avoid touching me, especially my hands,” Hurst chuckled. “Did you forget about my abilities?”
“No,” Jem replied. “I just have nothing to hide.”
“Everyone has something to hide,” Patrick pointed out. Jem just shrugged his shoulders.
Hurst looked at Jem with his sightless eyes and a small smile crept across his face. Jem was definitely hiding something, but it was something that Hurst was happy to keep to himself.
“So who is our saviour?” Ellen asked, glancing over to where the stranger was washing his blood-stained shirt.
“He has not introduced himself yet,” Tor told her. “But whoever he is, I am glad he turned up when he did. Without his help that fight might not have ended so well.”
Satisfied that his clothing was as clean as it was likely to get without a proper scrub, the man wrung his shirt out and pulled the wet garment over his head. The sodden material clung to his body, emphasising his muscular figure.
As he walked over to the assembled crowd, he pulled his short hair out of his eyes. Tor assessed him as he approached. He was a young man, still the right side of thirty, and his broad arms and upright posture indicated he was a soldier, or had been in the not too distant past. The way he had handled his sword more or less confirmed Tor’s theory.
“My name is Torrick,” he said, this time accepting the hand that Tor held out to him. “I am glad I have finally found you. My wife heard about your quest and suggested that I offer you my services.”
“Wife?” Ellen asked.
“Liselle,” Torrick called out. “It is safe to approach.”
All eyes turned toward the road as a woman appeared, her long hair tumbling down over her chest, obscuring it. Her thin figure and the sway of her hips as she walked made her very appealing. It was not until she was close that her age became evident.
Her hair, though shiny and well cared for, was turning to grey and wrinkles were beginning to appear around her eyes. Ellen would have put her closer to fifty than forty, was it not for the fact that Torrick had called her his wife.
“May I present my wife, Liselle,” Torrick announced, taking her into his arms and tenderly kissing her cheek. “Liselle, this is Prince Tor.”
“Please, just call me Tor,” he insisted. He made quick introductions to the rest of his team, then asked what Torrick had meant by his earlier comment about offering his services.
“Can we please talk about this somewhere else?” Ellen asked, looking around at the corpses that were littering the clearing.
“Good idea,” Tor agreed. “Hopefully we can find somewhere close by that will make a suitable camp. I, for one, do not relish the thought of sleeping so close to so many dead bodies.”
They retrieved their horses from where they were grazing a little further down the stream. Though frightened when the fighting had started, they soon returned and did not shy away from the smell of blood as they were led back to the road.
Hurst was placed in the wagon next to Seth and they led the way down the road. It did not take long to find another place to camp and before long they were sitting around a fire, watching a small wild boar slowly roast.
Torrick confirmed that he was, indeed, a soldier until a few years previous when he had been forced to leave his employer and he missed the life. He was looking for something more exciting to do when, purely by chance, Liselle overheard someone talking about the quest that the Remeny Princes had all agreed to take part in and that someone had seen Tor enter the country.
Knowing that his skills would come in handy, especially in a place like Dannavon, Liselle had persuaded her husband to seek Tor out to see if he could be of assistance.
As Torrick and his wife spoke, William was watching them both closely. There was something vaguely familiar about the man and the fact that he had a much older wife reinforced the feeling that he knew them, or of them, at least. A memory kept tickling at his brain, but always ran and hid before he could take hold of it.
“Torrick,” he said to himself. “Torrick. Why does that name ring a bell?” Then Torrick mentioned the name of his last employer and William realised exactly who he was.
Jumping up and interrupting Liselle mid-sentence, he pointed to Torrick.
“You are the soldier who married the whore.”