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“Can’t Bellak or Ellen do something?” Sam whispered to Tor as the guards were preparing to leave. He frowned at her.
“Why?” he whispered back. “We are being taken where we want to go.”
“Silence.” The guard who shouted had a scar running down the left side of his face. He was the same one who had struck Seth. Sam was beginning to feel deep hatred for the man.
Captain Kelly sighed. “Take it easy Damos. What harm can they possibly do by talking?” Damos grunted an inaudible reply before riding to the front of the column.
The prisoners had each been provided with a horse; the ones they had arrived on having been returned to the local garrison. All of their belongings, including the weapons they had claimed as well as Brin’s bow and quiver, were in a small cart being driven by a young guard. Samson was asleep beside him. Brin too was in the cart, having failed to regain consciousness. Ellen had examined him and assured Sam that he would be alright once he woke up. As they headed off, the prisoners were forced into single file with their arms bound in front of them and guards flanking them on both sides. When asked, Kelly informed Tor that they would reach the capital in a little over 48 hours. It was going to be a long and tedious two days.
As it turned out, the journey was much more pleasant than any of them had expected. They were well provisioned; the food they ate was a lot better than any they had had while travelling on their own. They were treated more like guests than prisoners. By most of the guards anyway. While Captain Kelly and the majority of his men made polite conversation with their prisoners, Damos refused to speak to them, except to order them to keep in line if they appeared to be moving too far to one side or the other.
Sam learned a lot about Auxland as they rode. The Queen’s Guards were all fiercely loyal to their ruler and felt deeply saddened by what was happening to their country, though they freely admitted that life had been hard for the men in their land while the Queen’s mother had been alive. Only women were allowed to own property or run businesses. While the men did most of the work, it was the womenfolk who saw all of the profits. Most of the women, however, did not abuse this, treating their menfolk with kindness and respect. There were those who treated their workers, men and women alike, more like slaves, but they were in the minority and those who abuse power could be found in all countries, no matter which sex was in control.
Since the death of the previous Queen, men had slowly been taking over the country. It started with the farms and small businesses, then spread. As soon as one Duchess was overthrown by her brother, all of the women in that province were forced to surrender everything to their male relatives or face execution. Most of the husbands supported their wives and while the title deeds changed hands, their everyday life was not affected. The real problems were caused by the Lords and Dukes who were only interested in themselves and how much better their own lives would be with them in control. Peasants became just another source of income and local law and order fell apart, with the soldiers defending whoever could pay the highest, regardless of who was in the wrong.
Of all the cities in Auxland, only Tennel remained unchanged. The Queen was kept oblivious to what was occurring in her country.
“I met her once,” one of the guards claimed the first night as they were sitting by the camp fire. “It was just after her tenth birthday. A ball was held in her honour and she insisted that all of the Queen’s Guards who were stationed in Tennel be allowed to attend. She made an effort to personally speak to every one of us, letting us know she had been told how proud her mother had been of us and that she was honoured for us to continue serving Auxland. She won my respect that day and I know she would put this country straight if she knew what was going on.”
Every guard sitting nearby murmured their agreement, even Damos. “Why does nobody tell her then?” Patrick asked.
Captain Kelly gave a mirthless laugh. “None of her guards have been permitted near her by her advisors because they know we would.”
“Then it is vitally important that I make it to Tennel safely. I had prayed that the rumours were false or had been exaggerated, but that does not appear to be the case,” Tor said, looking up from the fire. “I know what you are going to say,” he continued when Kelly opened his mouth to reply. “I too will not be granted an audience. But I swear on my father’s grave that I, or one of my team, will get to see her somehow.” He threw a stick he had been holding onto the fire, which crackled, making Sam jump.
Captain Kelly looked at him suspiciously. “Now why do I get the feeling you want to go to Tennel for reasons other than a fair trial?”
Tor smiled. “I am surprised you have not heard. My father set all of his sons on a quest.”
“I am aware of that,” Captain Kelly interrupted. “But what has that to do with my Queen.”
It was Ellen who answered his question. “We need a flower from her garden.” This time Kelly’s laugh was real. Tears were streaking down his face by the time he regained his composure. “Did I say something funny?” Ellen asked him waspishly.
“I am sorry, but do you honestly believe you will be able to gain access to the Queen’s garden?”
“We know it will not be easy, but we will find a way,” Tor assured him confidently.
“I wish I had your optimism.” Kelly paused, thinking. “I will tell you what. You help me let the Queen know what is really going on in her lands and I will help you get into her gardens. Deal?”
“Deal,” Tor agreed and the two men shook hands, unsure which task would be the more difficult.
“So what did happen to the soldiers whose horses you ‘borrowed’,” Kelly asked, posing the question as diplomatically as possible. Tor admitted they had killed them under extenuating circumstances, which he went into in great detail. The explanation did nothing to appease the Captain however. In the eyes of the law, murder had been committed and the perpetrators would have to stand trial in Tennel.
“I must give you a word of advice before we reach the city,” Kelly said, attempting to change the subject. “Some of you may consider becoming betrothed before we arrive.”
“Why?” Sam asked, genuinely confused.
All eyes fell to Seth, who was grinning. “Why do I have to explain?” he complained before rolling straight into the explanation. “As you have heard, Tennel is ruled by women and these women, especially those of higher rank, have certain needs, to put it delicately, and men have to fulfil those needs.” He looked imploringly at Sam, hoping she would understand what he was saying. She didn’t, but she did notice both Ellen and Ria smirking at how uncomfortable Seth appeared.
He persevered. “When a woman asks a man of equal or lower rank to warm her bed, he cannot refuse, unless he is married, engaged or has been a widower for under a year.”
Sam was shocked. “What!” she exclaimed in outrage. “That is despicable. The man has no say in it?”
“None I am afraid,” Kelly informed her.
“Does this apply to foreign women who are just visiting?” Ellen enquired, a gleam in her eye.
“I outrank you,” Patrick interjected quickly.
Ellen smiled at him sweetly. “Whatever made you think I was thinking about you?” Patrick’s features darkened as he scowled at her, but he did not comment.
Kelly coughed, slightly embarrassed. “Yes, it does apply to visitors. This is why I suggest that the men present propose to the lady of their choice before we go much further. Unless, of course, any of you wish to be used as a sex toy.”
“Get that smile off your face,” Tor ordered, seeing a huge grin form across Seth’s features. “Just remember that not all of the ladies who outrank you are young and pretty. Think about my Aunt Gaddy as a good example.”
Seth blanched, while Cirren started to snicker. Tor ignored them both. “Am I right in thinking that this particular law does not apply to Cirren or myself?”
“You are correct,” Kelly confirmed. “Although technically the Queen outranks you, she would never break protocol by making any improper suggestions to either of you.” He looked at Cirren as he continued. “As you would not to her.” The underlying threat in that sentence could not be missed. Captain Kelly looked around him. The closeness of Sam and Brin did not go unnoticed. “I take it you two are a couple.” It was not a question and he did not wait for a reply before turning his attention to Dal. “And you should be alright. We can tell them you are under the age limit.” Dal sighed with relief. Modo was assured that, as a vexen, he too had nothing to worry about as he was not bound by that particular law.
Seth quickly grabbed Ria by the hand. “Will you do me the honour of marrying me?” he asked, going down on one knee. Ria burst out laughing, stopping suddenly when she saw he was serious. He shrugged at her. “You are better than the alternative and I know you will not be upset when the engagement gets broken off.”
“Better than the alternative?” she asked, scowling. His impish grin was enough to calm her down and she agreed to his proposal.
Tor threw a questioning look towards Patrick, then nodded towards Ellen. “You must be joking,” Patrick said, choking. “Somehow I do not think she will be as accommodating as Ria. If I ask her to marry me she will make damn sure I make it down the aisle.”
“Do not flatter yourself,” Ellen replied tartly. “While you may be pleasant to look at, you are definitely not husband material.” Patrick looked hurt, but eventually asked Ellen for her hand in marriage. She pretended to think about it for a while before agreeing.
“That just leaves you,” Tor said, addressing Bellak. “Where do Wizards rank in Auxland?” he asked Captain Kelly.
“I have no idea,” the man replied, rubbing the stubble on his chin.
“Do not worry about me. I think I will take my chances. Besides, when you reach my age, you are grateful if a woman wants to share your bed, no matter what she looks like.”
“Get down,” Brin suddenly shouted, diving to the ground, pulling Sam down beside him. Everyone obeyed and seconds later a barrage of arrows sailed over their heads. One of Captain Kelly’s men was not fast enough and an arrow took him in the eye, killing him instantly. It was either an extremely lucky shot or the archer was highly skilled. A number of palm sized rocks also hit the ground, one of them striking Samson on the head, rendering him unconscious.
“How did you know?” Kelly whispered to the elf, looking around to see where the assault was coming from, while trying not to lift his head high enough to make it an easy target.
“I heard the arrows flying towards us.” Kelly stared at him in amazement. “Listen,” the elf warned before the Captain could speak. He obeyed, but could hear nothing. “A number of people are trying to creep up on us from the left.” Kelly nodded and signalled to one of his men, who quietly drew his sword, as did those who lay next to him.
“There are more to the right,” Brin warned and Kelly silently signalled the rest of his men.
“Let us get our weapons,” Tor’s voice hissed through the silence of the night. Kelly looked across at him, his face outlined by the glow of the fire. Against his better judgement, he nodded. The area they were in was renowned for bandits and he had no way of knowing how many were out there. He had already lost one man and did not want to lose any more.
Taking a knife from his belt, he cut the rope binding Brin’s wrists. All of the prisoners were untied at each rest break, but had their arms secured again once they had finished eating. Kelly then performed the same action on Sam, before throwing the knife to Tor. Once everyone was released, Tor, Patrick and Brin made their way towards the cart, keeping low and making as little noise as possible.
“We are surrounded,” Brin whispered.
“I know,” came the quiet reply.
The cart creaked as Brin climbed over the side, making the horses standing nearby whinny. Tor and Patrick held their breaths, but neither saw nor heard movement from the bandits they knew were surrounding them. Swords were passed down to them, enough for the women to arm themselves as well as the men, and Brin’s bow. When he leapt over the side of the cart, landing silently beside them, he was wearing his quiver.
“How do you do that?” Patrick asked the elf, amazed that he could be so quiet.
“Practice.” He pointed towards the darkness surrounding the camp. “I will be more effective out there than here.”
Tor nodded and handed over Kelly’s knife. “In case you run out of arrows.”
The two men crawled back to the fire and quickly distributed the weapons. Ellen refused hers, saying she would be better off defending herself with magic. Ria accepted a sword, but would only use it as a last resort. She was confident she could beat any opponent in hand to hand fighting, even if he was armed. Tor did not share her confidence, but did not argue with her.
Suddenly the air was filled with war cries and armed men ran into the camp from all directions. The sound of steel on steel rang out as swords clashed. Both Tor and Patrick found themselves facing two men apiece, as did a number of the guards. Ria extended her leg along the ground just as a bandit ran past, tripping him. She leapt to her feet and jumped onto his spine, knocking the wind out of him. If he had been a thinner man, she would probably have broken it, but his layers of fat saved him.
Before he could get his feet under him, however, Dal rushed forwards, plunging a sword through the prone man’s back. The bandit wore no armour and his thin clothing did nothing to prevent the sword from slicing through his body, piercing a lung. Ria nodded her thanks before spinning round to face another opponent, kicking him between the legs before he had chance to attack. He dropped his sword and doubled up with pain. Ria bent down to pick it up then grabbed his hair and pulled his head back, exposing his throat. In one swift movement she sliced his carotid artery before dropping the sword on the ground.
Bellak and Ellen stood with their backs to the fire, using magic to throw flames towards their attackers. While the fire they were producing was not hot enough to actually burn anything, it was an adequate defence and they were too concerned about injuring their friends to produce anything more effective. Cirren and Seth stood on either side of them, preventing the two magic users from being attacked from the side, while Modo protected their backs. Though vastly outnumbered, the Queen’s Guards and their prisoners were currently holding their own. The fight was not turning out to be the easy slaughter the bandits had been expecting.
Sam was terrified. She had never had to defend herself with a sword before and could recall nothing of what she had been taught about handling one. Somehow she managed to block what would have been a killing blow, but her arm was not strong enough to prevent her opponent’s sword from making contact with her neck, cutting it slightly. Suddenly the man attacking her fell to the ground, an arrow protruding from his throat.
“Brin,” she whispered in relief. She looked out into the darkness. She could not see him, but knew he could see her. Turning round again, she spied Dal in trouble. He was being beaten back by a tall ugly bandit with a patch over one eye. She ran up to them and slashed at the man’s legs, slicing into muscle. The unexpected attack from the rear caused the man to falter, giving Dal the opportunity to regain his footing and commence his attack. Between them they managed to bring the bandit to his knees. Dal performed the killing blow. They did not have time to congratulate themselves before they were under attack once more.
Arrows began to rain down on them, each one finding a target. Only bandits were hit, though some passed so closely to some of the defenders that they could feel the feathers touch them. The bandits were tough men, breaking the shafts and continuing to fight with the arrow heads still embedded in them whenever they were able.
Patrick, demonstrating complete disregard for his own safety, quickly disposed of his two opponents and turned around, looking for more. Damos was defending himself against three bandits and was too busy to notice a fourth approaching him from behind. “Damos, duck,” Patrick shouted. The guard instinctively obeyed the command and the sword stroke that should have taken off his head sliced the throat of another of his attackers. Patrick rushed over. It was now three against two, both of whom were seasoned fighters. Patrick smiled at the much better odds as he raised his sword, ready for the next attack. He was still smiling when the point of a sword appeared in his chest, having been pushed through from the back. He slid lifelessly to the ground.
Seth skillfully deflected a thrust before turning his blade as it descended, slashing his attacker diagonally across the chest and stomach. Tor had taught him well. The bandit was not dead, but he was definitely out of the fight. Another soon took his place.
Tor found himself having to retreat from a ferocious attack. Unable to look behind him, he did not notice the dead body until he tripped over it. He landed on his back, hard, and his sword arm came into contact with a large rock. Even the noise of fighting that filled the camp was not enough to hide from Tor’s ears the snap of the bone breaking. The sword fell from his now useless hand. A bandit loomed over him, sword raised. Time seemed to stand still for Tor as he watched it slowly descend. Sparks flew as metal struck metal, arresting the swords downward momentum. Glancing quickly to his left, Tor saw that it was one of Kelly’s men that had just saved him. He pushed himself to his feet and retrieved his sword. The intense training he had received at his father’s castle had included many hours of practice using his weaker arm. Silently thanking his instructor, he tucked his injured arm into his jacket and rejoined the fight.
Kelly found himself facing an unskilled opponent and quickly disposed of him. He glanced all around him to ascertain where the next attack would come from and saw Ria on the ground, a large bandit laying on top of her with his hands round her throat. He started to make his way towards her, but was intercepted by two more of the enemy. As he disembowelled one, an arrow took the other in the chest, leaving him free to help Ria. Before he could reach her, she raised her knee up sharply between her attacker’s legs, making him release his hold on her. He rolled off her and she knelt up, took hold of his head and twisted it sharply, breaking his neck. She was breathing heavily beside the corpse by the time Kelly arrived at her side.
Both looked around to see who needed help and were pleased to find that, apart from Tor, who was in the process of pushing his sword through a bandit’s chest, nobody else was fighting. The ground was littered with dead or dying enemies and Kelly’s men inspected the bodies, checking for signs of life as well as valuables. The sound of retching could clearly be heard and Ria saw that it was Dal. “Probably the first time he has ever killed someone,” Tor explained. As she watched, Tor dragged himself over to his young cousin and started talking quietly to him. Ria could not make out any of the words, but she knew they would contain the perfect combination of instruction and sympathy. This would not be the last time Dal would find himself having to kill or be killed, so he needed to recover from this quickly.
“Why did their archer stay out of the fight?” one of the Queen’s Guards asked as they all collapsed by the fire, exhausted.
Brin heard the question as he joined them and grinned broadly. “I found him and cut his throat.” Nods of approval greeted this statement as the elf handed Kelly’s knife back to him.
“I did not realise you still had this,” he commented. “Assessment time,” he ordered. “How many dead, how many injured?”
The count did not take long. Of the prisoners, other than Patrick, only Tor had any significant injury, a fact that Cirren would not let him forget for a while. Ellen had already fixed the broken bone and declared he should regain full use of his arm within a few days. Samson was beginning to wake up and, after a quick examination, appeared to have no permanent damage, though Ellen did suggest that he continue to travel in the cart for the remainder of their journey.
Only half of the guards had survived, and few of those had only minor cuts and bruises. Three had suffered deep cuts to various parts of their bodies, but none of the wounds were life threatening and Ellen assured them she could heal them all in under an hour. One man had taken a deep slash to his stomach and his comrades were holding the two sides of the cut together, keeping his guts inside him. Ellen took one look at him and shook her head. He would not survive the night.
Kelly looked down at the knife that was still in his hand and moved towards the injured guard, but Damos blocked his path. “He is my brother. I will take care of him.” There was no emotion in the man’s voice. He took the knife out of Kelly’s hand and knelt beside the mortally injured man. He took one hand in his and looked into his dying brother’s eyes, which were filled with pain. Somehow he managed to nod. He knew he was going to die a slow painful death and Damos was there to prevent that. Without breaking eye contact, Damos moved aside his brother’s jacket and placed the tip of the knife on his chest, between two ribs. Then, with all of his strength, he pushed the knife into his brother’s body, piercing the heart. Death was instantaneous.
“He is gone,” he announced, a tear trickling unnoticed down his face. Everyone bowed their heads and said a silent prayer. This brought the total dead up to seven. With Captain Kelly’s permission, Bellak buried them, as he had the soldiers they had killed in the village.
Kelly turned towards Tor and his companions, who were all grouped together. “I would like to remind you that, except for the bow, those weapons are not yours,” he stated. Tor nodded; he had not forgotten. “However, if I have your word that you will not attempt to escape, I will allow you to keep them until we reach the capital. Any objections?”
All eyes turned towards Damos, the only one of Kelly’s men likely to disagree with his Captain’s orders.
“While it feels wrong having prisoners ride with us like free men, I will be grateful for a few more swords beside me,” he grunted. “Besides, one of you lost his life saving mine.”
Tor gave an embarrassed cough. “That is not entirely accurate.” He went on to explain Patrick’s problem with dying, or more accurately, staying dead. “We usually just tie his body to the back of a horse and wait for him to wake up.”
“Good. We can throw him in the back of the cart,” Kelly said. If the thought of dragging a dead body around with the group bothered him, he hid it well. “Now let us get out of here and search for a new place to camp for the night. The corpses of the bandits will start to smell soon and I, for one, have no desire to bury them.”