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“Excuse me,” a voice called out from the distance. “Can I come out now?”
All eyes honed in on where Dal stood with the foals, still surrounded by a ring of fire; the excitement of the events that had just unfolded had completely removed him from their minds.
Bellak whispered an incantation and the flames disappeared. This seemed to frighten the two young unicorns more than when they first appeared and they refused to move, no matter how much Dal coaxed them. They pawed and sniffed at the invisible line where the fire had been, but would not cross it, not even when they saw no harm come to Dal. After much persuasion from the adult unicorns, the foals eventually moved forward, but kept looking back over their shoulders until the patch of grass that had been their safe haven could no longer be seen.
It was a weary but triumphant group that set out for the nearest water hole. The sun showed that it was still early afternoon, but none of them had the energy to travel further than necessary that day.
The rest of the journey was mercifully uneventful and less than a week later they arrived at the edge of the Sha-Na plains. It was a surprisingly sorrowful parting. The unicorns and their riders had formed a bond during their time together and there were many promises about renewing friendships when the quest was over. Sam tried to persuade Spike to leave his territory and journey with them for a while longer, but he declined, stating that his herd needed to continue guarding their lands against unwelcome visitors.
Once the unicorns had galloped out of sight, the two legged travellers, with Samson running along beside then, started trudging down the road. Crossing the plains may have saved them a great deal of time, but they now found themselves without supplies or mounts. They would have to walk to the nearest settlement and hope that they would be able to purchase what they needed.
When they finally arrived at the outskirts of a small village, they were appalled by its condition. Children dressed in rags played in the street, until they saw the strangers approaching. They ran away, emitting terrified screams that brought women running out of their ramshackled houses. Their cold hard faces stared at the strangers as the children huddled behind their skirts. Feeling that he was to blame for the hostile reaction of the villagers, Modo said he would not remain in the village, deciding instead to skirt around it and meet up with the rest on the other side.
Without attempting to speak to the villagers, Tor led his group to the only building that did not look like it would fall down if the wind picked up. The door creaked loudly as he opened it, causing all occupants of the room to look towards him. As expected, he had found the inn. Tor beckoned the others to follow him as he made his way towards the bar, where the innkeeper warily watched him approach. As each person entered the room, they could feel the hostile eyes of the other patrons assessing them. Dal was the last one to enter and when he closed the door behind him there was an audible sigh of relief. The innkeeper smiled at Tor and asked him what he would like. The atmosphere relaxed and the locals turned their attention back to what they had been doing before the strangers had arrived.
“We seemed to have passed some sort of test,” Tor commented, indicating the village men who sat close by. They all looked exhausted and had the same dejected expression.
The innkeeper studied him carefully before replying. “They were looking for soldiers uniforms.”
“I take it soldiers have been causing problems recently.”
The innkeeper nodded. He was no more than middle aged, but held himself like someone much older. “While we are slowly starving because most of what we can grow goes to the local Lord in taxes, they come here and take whatever they want without paying.” He looked nervously towards the table around which Sam, Brin, Patrick and Ellen were sitting. “Including the women.”
Tor was shocked. “But soldiers are supposed to protect the people not abuse them. Your Lord needs to be informed.”
“He knows.” The look of defeat that crossed the man’s face told Tor that the Lord would not be of any help to these people; he may even be the cause of their problems. He turned the conversation to his own needs. No food was available, but there were clean rooms if they wished to stay. Tor thanked the man, but respectfully declined. They would have a drink then be on their way. No horses or supplies could be purchased in the village, but he was given directions to the nearest town where he might be able to find what he needed.
The innkeeper called out a name and a pretty young barmaid appeared from the back room. She looked so much like the innkeeper that she had to be his daughter. While she filled mugs with flat watery ale, Tor joined the rest of his group at the tables, warning Cirren that he had better keep his eyes, as well as his hands, to himself or there would be big trouble.
The mugs of ale were delivered and Tor paid the asking price, plus a few extra coins. The look of delight on the young girl’s face was almost heart breaking. They drank in silence; the misery of the place was affecting them all deeply. The ale was warm and bitter, but it quenched their thirst.
They were busy discussing whether to head towards the next town or see if they could fend for themselves in the woods for a few days when the main door to the inn banged opened and half a dozen men walked in, all in uniform. Tor quickly looked about him and was pleased to see the innkeeper’s daughter slip into the back room without the soldiers noticing. The temperature inside the common room dropped dramatically and it was not caused by the door remaining open. Sam looked at the newcomers and shivered. These were not men you would want to meet on a dark night.
The innkeeper had six mugs of ale on the bar before the soldiers reached it. Patrick reached for his sword and swore quietly when he remembered he did not have it with him. Very slowly, Brin selected an arrow from his quiver, which he had placed on the floor beside him, and, under the table, picked up his bow. If any of them went for their weapons, he would be able to have the arrow through the throat of the closest soldier before his sword was fully drawn, despite the delay caused by having to stand up.
Without thanking the innkeeper or handing over any money, the six surly men took their mugs to a nearby table, the occupants of which quickly departed. One of them took a large mouthful of his ale, then spat it onto the ground, spraying some of the other patrons.
“This stuff is utter crap,” he yelled at the innkeeper, who was cowering behind the bar. “What makes you think you can get away with serving us this shit instead of the decent ale?”
“It is all I have,” the man stammered, shaking with fright. As the soldier got up from the bench he was sitting on, he scanned the room menacingly, daring anyone to interfere with what he was about to do to the innkeeper. He stopped when his eyes fell on Ria and leered at her. “Seeing as I have nothing decent to drink, I think I will have some other fun instead.”
Tor and Patrick were instantly on their feet, pushing Ria behind them. The soldier stopped in his tracks, not because he was in the least concerned about the two men in front of him, but because he had noticed that Brin too was now on his feet, bow in hand.
“One more step and it will be your last,” the elf warned.
The remaining five soldiers stood up, drawing their swords. “You will only be able to kill one of us before we disarm you,” one of them said, laughing. “Then you will die, very slowly.”
Brin did not take his eyes off the soldier nearest to him. “Try me.”
The soldiers rushed forwards, two hitting the floor with arrows protruding from their bodies before they had covered half the distance. Bellak dived under the table, pulling Ellen down with him. Tor and Patrick launched themselves at two of the men still standing, unable to prevent Ria from attacking a third. Dal and Seth joined in, grinning like school boys. As soon as they had their foe on the ground, Samson pounced, biting his throat and severing the carotid artery. Tor and Patrick had both managed to disarm their opponents and swiftly put them to death, leaving only one soldier still standing.
“Leave him to me,” Ria called out as they circled each other. The soldier was still in possession of his sword and struck out at Ria. She jumped to the side at the last minute, making the sword narrowly miss her. Before her feet had hit the ground, she kicked out with her leg, catching the soldier on the edge of his elbow. A loud crack filled the room as he let out a scream and dropped his sword.
“You have broken it, you bitch,” the injured man yelled at her. Patrick started to move forward to finish the fight, but Ria waved him back. With his good arm, the soldier grabbed Ria by the hair, pulling her head back painfully. Too late he realised his mistake. He should never have allowed himself to get that close to her. Flattening her hand, she drew her arm back then swung it forward, hitting him in the throat with great force. He released her and tried desperately to breath. His trachea had been crushed, preventing him from doing so. Ria watched him struggle until he collapsed onto the ground. Only then did she pick up his discarded sword and stab him through the heart.
A hushed silence filled the room, broken by Seth. “Impressive,” he said admiringly.
“Is it over?” a voice called from under the table. Hearing the affirmative, Bellak emerged, holding out his hand to help Ellen up. Patrick sauntered over. Cirren was still seated at the table, having not moved at all during the short fight. “Nice of you to lend a hand,” Patrick commented, his voice full of sarcasm.
“You seemed to be managing alright,” he replied mildly. “I would only have got in your way.” Patrick grunted, grabbed the only mug on the table that still contained ale, and drank deeply.
The innkeeper rushed over to them. “Please,” he said frantically. “You must get out of here before more soldiers come. They will destroy the entire village if these bodies are found.”
“I can take care of that.” All eyes turned to Bellak. “Just get them outside onto some soft ground. Can you clean up in here?” he asked Ellen, who nodded. With help from the locals, the corpses were quickly removed from the inn and Ellen sat herself comfortably on the floor beside one of the pools of blood and began to sing. The innkeeper watched in amazement as the blood disappeared before his eyes, leaving no trace of its presence.
The soldiers bodies were searched, their weapons confiscated by Tor and all other valuables handed over to one of the villagers, who promised to evenly distribute them between everyone in the village. Once Tor was satisfied that nothing of use remained, he nodded to Bellak, who pointed to the first body and cast a spell. The body instantly disappeared, making the local men jump back in fright.
“Where did that body just go?” one of the shocked men stammered.
Bellak grinned. “Buried deep underground.”
“But how? The top soil is untouched.” Bellak winked and an evil grin spread over the man’s face. “Can you do that while they are still alive?”
A look of shock crossed the old wizard’s face. “But that would be murder.” The tone of his voice indicated that the shock was all pretence. “Well,” he admitted after a moment’s silence. “I have not actually tried it, but I can see no reason why it would not work.”
“Do not even think of trying it,” Tor warned, unsure whether to take him seriously or not. Bellak grinned broadly before moving on to the next corpse to be disposed of.
“At least we now have transport,” Dal called out, spotting the soldier’s horses tied to a post in front of the inn.
“That is called stealing,” Seth informed him.
“No it is not,” the young man retorted. “Technically the horses belong to the crown so we will simply be returning them to their rightful owner.”
“I like the way the lad thinks.” Tor was not as keen on the idea as Patrick obviously was and turned to address the men from the village.
“Will the horses be of any use to you?” he asked.
One of them grimaced. “Of course they will, but they are branded. If any other soldiers spot us with one of those animals we would be hung first and questioned later. Take them. Please.”
“Alright,” Tor agreed. It didn’t feel right to be taking the horses, but knowing it would remove a problem for the villagers made it feel less wrong. At that moment, the others emerged from inside the inn. “We are taking the horses,” he announced to them. “We will have to double up, but it is better than walking.”
Without waiting for instructions, Brin selected a horse and pulled Sam up in front of him, placing his arms tightly round her waist. Patrick too selected a horse and pulled the same manoeuvre on Ellen, who protested loudly, but made no attempt to remove his arms.
Being the smallest of the men, Tor suggested that Dal and Seth share another of the mounts. Neither protested, but Sam saw the pained look on Seth’s face as he jumped onto the horse’s back and Dal climbed up in front of him.
Cirren claimed the fourth horse and held his hand out to Ria. “Would you do me the honour of joining me, my lady,” he said formally. “And please promise not to hurt me,” he whispered into her ear as her head drew level with his, causing her to emit a pleasant peel of laughter.
This left the last two horses for Tor and Bellak. After swift goodbyes to the men of the village, the group headed off at a fast trot towards the nearest town. They picked up Modo as they left the village, the vexen dexterously leaping up behind Bellak. Samson happily trotted along beside them.
They had been travelling for less than an hour when they came across another group of soldiers. Riding four abreast, they took up the entire road. Upon seeing them, Tor signalled for a halt. Expecting the soldiers to move over to the left, as would have been the polite thing to do, Tor and his group remained on the right hand side of the road. When they got closer, however, the man leading the soldiers called out in a gruff voice.
“Move out of the way.” It was not a request. If he had been riding his own horse, Tor would not have obeyed. Nobody had the right to address him so rudely, no matter what country he was in. Under the circumstances, however, he thought it best to comply and signalled for the rest to obey. Without even glancing in their direction, all of the soldiers rode by.
“Nice manners,” Cirren commented to his older brother, who just snorted in reply.
By nightfall they had reached the town. Even in the dark they could see it was in a far better condition than the villages they had passed. All of the buildings appeared to be in a good state of repair and the shops and market stalls were overflowing with merchandise. They would be able to buy all they needed here. By unspoken agreement, they looked about for an inn; the purchases could wait till the morning.
Moving down what appeared to be the main street, Tor came to a halt outside a large building. As he was dismounting, a youth with a dirty face and tatty clothes addressed him.
“Oi mister, I would not stay here if I was you.”
Tor looked at him critically. “And why not?”
“Fleas,” the street urchin replied. “And they water down the wine. The Queen’s Arms is just up the street. You would be much better off staying there.”
“Fair enough,” Tor replied, remounting his horse. “Would you care to show me the way?”
“Why did he ask that?” Dal whispered to Seth. “If it is just up the street, surely we can find it ourselves.”
“You really did not get out and about much when you were growing up did you. The kid is employed by the Queen’s Arms to steal customers away from the other inns. He will not get paid for having poached us if we show up without him.”
“And Tor knows this?” Dal asked, confused. “Does that mean that it is not any better than that first inn?”
Seth smiled at him affectionately. “Maybe, maybe not. This inn has the advantage of being the first one travellers come to when they approach the town from this direction, so inns closer to the centre need some way of attracting business.”
Dal still was not happy. “It feels wrong to me. Why should one inn be allowed to steal business away from another by telling lies?”
Seth sighed. “The kid may not have been telling lies. That is just how business works I am afraid. The only way to make a profit sometimes is by ensuring the opposition does not.”
The Queen’s Arms turned out to be a very comfortable establishment and Tor slipped the young ruffian a coin for being their guide. It was a family run business, but the roles were not as one would normally find in an inn. The innkeeper was a plump woman with rosy cheeks and a friendly smile. While her daughters and daughters-in-law waited on tables and took care of the cleaning, her husband and sons ran the kitchen. There was even a large stable out the back that a son-in-law ran as a separate business.
Rooms were rented for the night and a meal ordered. Much to the ladies’ delight, there was a bathhouse attached to the side of the inn, which they immediately made use of. Seth and Dal ensured that the horses were being properly taken care of while the rest of the men socialised in the bar, obtaining useful information like how long it would take them to ride to Tennel. After filling the water troughs and placing hay in the stalls, the stable lads began to brush down the horses. If either of them noticed the brands on them, they kept it to themselves.
The ladies appeared, freshly bathed, just as food was being placed on the tables; three large beef pies with bowls of fresh vegetables and a freshly baked loaf of bread, washed down with glasses of wine. Even Samson, who was hiding under the table, got his fair share. Dal took a sip of the wine. It was not watered down. Tor looked at him and held up one finger. Dal took his meaning and nodded unenthusiastically.
As soon as the meal was complete, Sam and Brin slipped away. It was the first time they had had the chance to be alone in too long and they intended to make the most of it. Ellen and Ria retreated to the room they would be sharing not long afterwards, closely followed by a sulking Dal, who reluctantly made his way to his own room. He had tried to protest, but Tor had pointed out that he had agreed to follow his orders when he joined the group and that included being sent to bed at a decent hour whenever it was possible. Samson, out of sympathy, joined him.
Bellak, Modo and Seth also retired relatively early, leaving Patrick, Tor and Cirren alone, reminiscing about some of the good times they had had when the Princes were younger and Patrick had been staying at their father’s castle.
It was still a few hours before dawn when Brin was woken by banging on the door of one of the other rooms. He gently slipped out of bed, making sure he did not wake Sam, and pulled on his trousers. Easing open the door, he put his head out and spied a number of guards outside the room Tor was sharing with Cirren. He quickly closed the door and woke Sam.
“Get dressed,” he whispered to her. Seeing the concerned look on his face, she did not question his instructions. Luckily they were in a room with a connecting door, so Sam was able to slip into Ria and Ellen’s room.
Raised voices could be heard from the corridor, waking the women before Sam had chance to. “What is going on?” Ria asked as soon as she lit a lamp and saw Sam.
“I’m not sure. There are guards in Tor’s room for some reason. I suggest you get dressed in case they are searching all of the rooms.”
Not wanting to be caught in their sleeping clothes, the two women quickly obeyed. As a result, they were fully dressed when their door was forced open, without warning, much to the guards’ disappointment.
Without any explanation, the three women were roughly seized by the arm and dragged from the room. In the corridor they saw the rest of their team were all disarmed and under arrest.
“Brin,” Sam screamed when she saw his limp body being carried by Patrick. The guard holding her tightened his grip on her arm to prevent her running forward, making her wince in pain.
One of the other guards sneered at her. “Your little elf here did not want to give up his bow. I managed to persuade him.”
The noise had woken the innkeeper, who arrived with some of his sons, brandishing swords, axes and clubs. “What is going on here?” he demanded.
One of the guards addressed him. “Sorry to have disturbed you sir. I am Captain Kelly of the Queen’s Guards. Your son-in-law recognised the brand on the horses these people stabled with him. It is the Soldier’s Insignia, proving that the horses are stolen. He did his duty by informing us. We will take these people in for questioning about how they obtained these mounts and what happened to the soldiers they belong to.”
It was a good speech, formal and polite, but the innkeeper seemed to be seething with rage. He looked at the man to his right, whom Seth recognised from the stables and surmised was the son-in-law. “We will talk about this in the morning,” he spat before ushering all of his family back to their sleeping quarters.
“The innkeeper obviously does not agree that his son-in-law did the right thing by going to the guards,” Seth commented to Dal under his breath, receiving a punch to his stomach from the guard nearest to him for his trouble.
“Who gave you permission to talk?” the man demanded. Seth knew it was a rhetorical question and did not respond.
The Captain turned to his detainees. “You will be taken to the jailhouse where you will be interrogated,” he informed them. “I suggest you tell me everything on the way. My second-in-command has a reputation for making people talk. You will not enjoy the experience.” He turned to look at the ladies. “He has no problem with torturing women.”
“You have no right to do this,” Tor said loudly, but calmly. “I am Prince Tor and this is Prince Cirren from Remeny. As members of a royal family you are honour bound to present us to your Queen where she alone can question us.”
The guard who had struck Seth sneered. “Of course you are Princes,” he said sarcastically. “And I am Queen Tibia.”
Captain Kelly struck the man across the face. “Never take your Queen’s name in vain,” he warned him, then glanced down at Tor and Cirren’s outstretched hands. He paled visibly when his eyes fell on their signet rings. “Their rings bear the seal of the royal house of Remeny,” he announced. “If they are not who they claim, then they know a very good forger.”
He lifted his head to look Tor in the eyes. “Very well, we will see that you are escorted to Tennel, though I doubt you will meet the Queen. You had better be able to prove you are who you say you are. The punishment for impersonating royalty is being thrown into a pit with her Majesty’s cats. You and your entire entourage.” He cast his eyes downwards as he spoke, to where Samson was standing.
“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Sam commented, speaking louder than she intended.
Captain Kelly looked at her ominously. “You would not be saying that if you had met her cats.”