Castle Walls (21 page)

Katerin was hard put to not yank Ros back by her shirt. While she knew that her lover had experience with a sword, her level of skill certainly couldn't exceed that of a man who lived by one. Still, she resolved to stay out of the way, keeping a watchful eye on the other skirmishes around them to warn Ros if necessary as she continued to try freeing her hands.

The Invader laughed. "You'll excuse my doubts. Princess Sabine and I have unfinished business to attend. You'd do well to stand aside." To prove his point, he pushed his attack, attempting to rattle her with a blinding frontal assault of speed.

Behind Ros, she could feel the presence of Katerin and it encouraged her. She stood firm, still on the defense but no longer retreating. "You're mistaken, sir. She is not a princess and is no threat to you."

Liam forced his opponent back another step. Despite their differences in age, Dominic and the prince were evenly matched. The aide's lack of formal education leveled the field with the prince's lack of practical experience. Regardless, the aide found himself pushed back again.

"Please, my liege," he said, one final attempt at attaining his goals. "We
must
stand together. Your kingdom awaits you; there can be no doubt of your succession."

Lips tight, fire sparked in the prince's eyes. "You would have me slay my family to ensure my crown?" he demanded. Not awaiting an answer, Liam's attacks became fierce, his sister all but forgotten in a wave of emotion.

Surprised the blonde held her ground, the Invader said, "You fight well. I didn't expect the owner of a circus to have much skill."

"I was taught by my da and my father." Finally becoming accustomed to the shorter blade, Ros began pressing forward. There was no way the Invader would just let them go; she knew this. All she could do was kill him or die trying.

Forced to defend himself, the Invader's eyes narrowed. Again he attacked only to take a step backward. "Perhaps I know your father?" he asked from between clenched teeth.

"You did," Ros agreed. Her initial fear for Katerin was fading, replaced with a grim joy as she traded blows with this thief called a king. Advancing again, she easily blocked his defense, the tip of her blade catching his arm.

The Invader refused to respond to the sharp pain. Regardless of his apparent retreat, he had knowledge of his fate, a prophecy to bolster his resolve. His attacks turned vicious but the woman held her ground. "That must be why I find you familiar," he continued conversationally. "You must take after your father."

"Aye, I do." For Ros the world dissipated. The courtyard and its battles were long past affecting her. Feeling like an observer rather than thick in a fight for their lives, she noted the Invader favoring his left.
An old injury? He's got to be wearing down. He's as old as my da.

As the rebels gained the upper hand in the courtyard, those with instructions to secure the castle did so. This left a handful in the courtyard to keep a main defense at the gate and guard their companions' backs. Discovering two of their own trading blows was startling.

Liam noticed the attention of his people, vaguely aware of their bafflement.
Let's see to whom you're loyal.
Stepping out of the melee, the prince called out, "Arrest this man for treason."

Dominic's eyes widened in sudden apprehension, his sword frantically waved about the ever growing circle of rebels.

"
Get
'im!"

Watching only long enough to see his order obeyed, the prince remembered his sister's danger. He cursed, pointing at two men. "With me!" he said, leading them in the direction he'd last seen Sabine.
Gods! I hope I'm not too late!

The pair was circling, slashing at one another with brutal resolve, unmindful of their growing audience. Katerin remained behind Ros, not allowing the Invader anywhere near to finish the job. She was sure he'd gut her in an instant even if it meant his potential demise at the hands of her lover.

Sweat began beading on his forehead and the Invader wondered why this was taking so long. He had to give the woman her due - she was a fine sword fighter. I don't have time for this. Beginning a complicated string of maneuvers to distract his opponent, he said, "Perhaps you could tell me your father's name?"

Ros felt a thrill as she defended, seeing the opening so clearly that she was momentarily amazed the Invader didn't notice. A quick parry and then she slid the blade home, neatly slicing through his ribs.

The Invader stood in shock as his sword clattered to the floor. For a moment, he felt numbness washing over him before a hot / cold agony lanced through his body. He heard the old witch's prophecy just as she'd spoken it to a young princeling so many years ago.
"You will die by a sword, young kingling. It will be wielded by the child of your enemy, one of royal blood who will avenge all before him."

Watching him fall to his knees, Ros still held the hilt of her blade. She followed him down, staring into puzzled eyes, kneeling at his side, watching blood bubble from his lips.

"Wh... Who
are
you?"

Ros leaned closer, whispering into his ear almost as a lover. ''My name is Rosmerta Lisbet Helena Klasyne, royal heir to the throne of Barentcia. You slaughtered my father and my family over twenty years ago." With a snarl on her face, she twisted the blade, yanking it to the right and impaling the Invader's heart.

Hands grabbed at her and Katerin cried out, violently spinning around to face her attacker. The sight that met her was an impossibility. "L... Liam...?" she said, voice rasping.

"Sabine." His dark eyes, so like her own, were shining with tears as he reached out.

They fell together, each happily reassuring the other as being hale and healthy.

Ros stood, leaving the sword in its human sheath. The smell of death was strong and she realized her hands were sticky with blood. Behind her, the incongruous sounds of laughter caught her attention, lapping like waves against the shores of utter emptiness. She was surprised to find she wasn't as alone as she felt.

"Aye, you spit him good," a grizzled farmer said. Around him, others gathered, nodding and murmuring agreement.

"That I did," Ros said.

The old man nodded in admiration. "He deserved it. Stolen property, stolen crowns, stolen lives...He'll have much to account for in the afterlife.''

A smile grew on the blonde's face, the simple words easing an ache she didn't know was there. "Aye. That he will. And better him than me."

This brought a chuckle from the men. Another spoke up. "You're a hero, you know. What's your name so we can get the tale down proper?"

What's my name?
Ros said, "I'm called Ros. I own the Adamson Circus in my Da's name." She heard someone calling and turned, seeing an almost mirror image of her lover in the teenage boy beside her. Smiling, she stepped forward to be introduced.

Epilogue

The air was moist with fog. Muffled sound reached her ears, a minstrel singing nearby. Blindly, she focused on the song and its sedate beat, moving with care over the uneven terrain.

As she neared the music, other sounds could be discerned - the tumbling of water, dove calls gentle in the slight breeze. Her slippered foot stumbled over a rock and she could hear it clatter against others, splashing. The wind picked up, brushing a lock of hair across her forehead, dissipating the mist before her. Flickering light beckoned her closer as she picked her way across a stream.

Motion caught her eye and she saw the minstrel for the first time. His voice was soft, chanting a tale of war and betrayal. A white dove in his hand contrasted with his bloody story, cooing in counterpoint to his words. She could barely see his musicians through the darkness behind him, the torchlight only catching their movements as they played the drum and lute. Walls rising steeply into the fog told her where she was, her heart filling with dread. She was outside the castle. Again. As if on cue, the minstrel sang what she knew would be the last of his song. When he finished, he dropped his head and the musicians paused in their playing.

Sharp strains from the lute began, eerie in the dark mistiness. Unease filled her heart for she knew what was coming. Wanting to turn and leave, her feet wouldn't move. The deep rolling of the drum caused her to flinch in apprehension.

Startled by a sudden, intense beat of the drum, the dove flew from the minstrel's hand. Her fearful eyes could not look away as its path took it up into a clear blue sky. Shrill cry of a hawk, sickening impact, bloodied feathers floating through the air.

Another drum beat. Another vision.

She waited with impatience, squatting beneath the table in her father's chambers. Her little sister should have found her by now. Just as she was about to climb from her hiding place, the sound of booted feet chased her underneath again. Wishing she'd never begun this game, she shrank back, watching several pairs of legs stomp into the room. Their voices were quiet and serious, rough with concern, and her ears perked up in curiosity.

"What have you learned, Angus?" her father asked.

"My liege, the Invader is closing on our southern borders. He's moving fast, burnin' the farms behind him."

A younger voice, similar in timbre to the king, cursed. "Why destroy perfectly good farmland?" he demanded in righteous anger. "He'd need it to support his troops should get too far past our borders."

"Calm yourself, son," the king insisted, moving towards the man.

Waiting quietly under the table, she recognized her brother's boots. He fancied those silly flaps on the sides to help pull them on. She wanted to know who this Invader was and why he was being so dim but if her father found her now, she'd be in real trouble. The voices had continued above her and she focused on them again.

"Let me go, father! With the Third Army, I could lay waste to him!"

With reluctance, the king asked, "Angus?"

"Aye, your Majesty. If we can get to him before he gets to the Wynsul River…"

"See?" the young man said. "Please, father! I beg you."

In the following silence, she entertained herself with the notion of her strong older brother on his knees, begging. She bit her tongue to keep from giggling.

"Go."

After a startled pause, the son dashed forward. "
Thank
you, father! I'll make sure that bastard never invades another kingdom!" He turned and clattered out of the room.

"Angus," the king said. "Go with the crown prince. He'll have need of your wisdom."

"Aye, sire."

Another beat of the drum. Another vision.

Her mother's hoarse cry interrupted her. She looked up from her studies, a boring book on history, catching movement near the doorway. Ignoring her tutor, she dashed into the main hall of the castle, hearing many voices.

Several people were in the hall. Puzzled, she stepped closer, wondering why her mother was on the floor. The woman was hovering over something, hugging it to her breast and sobbing loudly. Others around her either stood back in embarrassed silence or appeared to be comforting her.

The king appeared, face stricken as he clearly saw what his daughter could not, one of his aides gasping in shock.

"It's your fault!" the hysterical woman spit at him. "
Your
fault!" Her voice faded into loud sobs.

Unable to stay away, fear and inquisitiveness filling her, she stepped closer. Others were in her way, blocking her view. She edged around them, peeking between. Even when she was able to see, it took a moment for the vision to sink in. Tears welled up in her eyes when it did.

Her brother's boots were bloody.

Another beat of the drum, the tempo increasing.

Even at this distance, the stench made her nose twitch. Acrid smoke rose less than a mile away, evidence of the Invader's progression towards her home. Below her window, she could see increasing activity in the courtyard. Injured were straggling in from the front lines, women and older children providing supplies to the overworked surgeons. The guard on the walls had tripled in response to the threat, but half of them were walking wounded. She'd heard the orders given by her father's aides - all foodstuffs and potables were to be brought into the castle in the event of a siege.

A lone rider approached from the battlefield, his horse galloping at full tilt. Reaching the castle, he nearly toppled his steed as he pulled it up short. Even at this distance, she could hear a captain's voice challenging him, distinctly hear his response.

"The king is dead! The king is dead!"

Drumbeat.

Darkness, whispers, rustling noises. A hand across her mouth, smothering her, scaring her. Startled shriek, heart pumping.

"Hush, lass!" The voice of a servant. "It's time to rise and dress. The Invader's at the castle walls. We must get you and your family away!"

Hurried dressing, barely enough time to grab a favorite doll as she was hustled from her room. In the hall, her mother clutched an infant brother, her sister staring wide-eyed at the small gathering of loyal guards and servants. She grabbed onto her younger sibling, feeling the smaller girl tremble as she did.

As they were herded from the castle, the ringing of metal on metal filled the courtyard.

"They've breached the walls!"

Drumbeat, relentless nightmare.

Flash of moonlight on water, gentle music of the horses' tack, muted whispers, arms wrapped about a servant as their mount swayed gently.

"There's a small boat ahead, majesty," a voice drifted back.

The world turned to thunder; pounding of hooves, rattle of armor, and cries of alarm. She clutched the servant before her as their steed leapt into a full gallop. Branches tugging at her clothes, hair whipping in the dark, heart in her throat. Suddenly flying, landing with a grunt on a patch of peat, she tried to catch her breath.

Standing, alone, the horse's hooves raced away. In the near distance she could hear fighting, angry curses and her sister's cry. She clutched her doll to her chest, terrified and frozen with indecision. The baby was shrieking in the dark, a man's scream mingling with the sound for just a moment before choking off. Unable to stay away despite her fright, she pushed through the foliage.