Fire And Ice (Book 1) (9 page)

             
Katelyn set the sheathed blade down on the quilted blanket that covered her bed.  “I don’t know what to think.”  She sighed deeply.

             
“It will work out.  Just give it time.”

             
“But I do not have any more time.  Not if I am leaving in the morning.”  She sat down on the edge of the bed where it was clear of clothing.  “Who knows where he will go now, or when I might see him again.”  She noticed Alys standing nearby and realized that she had been ignoring the girl.  “Alys, I am sorry.  I should not be talking this way.”

             
“You may speak of whatever you wish, Your Highness,” the girl replied humbly.

             
Something would have to be done about her obsequiousness.  She did not want a traveling companion who was going to be fawning all over her.  “You can call me Katelyn. Please.”

             
Alys was startled at first, then, her mask of compliance returned to her face, “If that is your wish.”

             
“It is,” Katelyn sighed as Alys went back to packing the items Margery had laid out.  This could be harder than she thought.  Where had she grown up to be taught to act in such a way?  It could not be the result of a shy personality alone.  There was something in her voice and the way she stood that said her conduct was practiced, and expected.  She would have to have some long talks with the young woman to fix it.

             
Margery had watched the exchange with interest.  She moved aside the green dress Katelyn had tossed down and sat beside her on the bed.  Catching Katelyn's eye she flicked her gaze to Alys and back.  Then mouthed the word ‘Later’.  Katelyn nodded.

             
“I am sure that everything will work out.  Just wait and see,” Margery said getting back to the original topic.

             
“I do not see how.”

             
Margery stared at her, her gaze penetrating.  She meant what she said.  “Trust me.  I know.”  That was the second time today someone told her to trust them, first Coran telling her not to worry about Torvilin, and now her sister telling her not to worry about Coran.  The thing was that they were the two people she trusted the most.

             
“Come on and help us finish packing,” Margery stated, rising off the bed.

             
“All right,” she complied, rising as well.  “You will probably pack all the clothes I hate if I don’t.”

             
Margery smile at her.  “You know I will.”

Chapter 6

To Westland

Coran was the first to appear in the yard in front of the palace with his horse saddled and his bags tied tightly behind it.  He wore his shirt of mail for the journey with a black over-shirt bearing the silver hawk of Tyelin large across the front. 

              Oran appeared beside him.  Coran hadn’t noticed him coming.  His father was immaculate in black even at this early hour.  The Lord of Tyelin put a hand on his son’s shoulder.  “Good luck, and be careful.”  All the feelings of love and pride that he had once expressed so openly were contained in the gaze he directed at his son. 

             
“Thank you, Father.”  That was all the good-bye they required.  It was a measure of his father’s trust in him that there were no reminders about caring for his charge, or doing his duty.

             
As Oran left him, a group of blue uniformed men arrived in the yard and went to the stables for their mounts.  Once received, they led the animals to the area in front of the gates where they began forming up in one long column.  There were far more than the original twenty.

             
As he waited for the others to arrive a heavily breathing Devon ran up to him.  His clothes were rumpled as if they had been slept in.  Considering Devon, it was probably true.

             
“I am surprised to see you up this early,” Coran grinned at his friend, noticing the redness around his eyes.  “Up late?”

             
“I found some guardsmen who like to gamble,” he shrugged, then winced from the effort. 

             
“Who like to drink as well?”

             
“I only had two drinks.”

             
“Then why do you look worse than a pile of horse dung.”              

“I was up late,” he yawned, “but I had to see you off.”  Devon closed his mouth and peered about the yard.  “I see that I am not too late.  I thought you might be leaving by now, that is why I hurried.”

              “No.  The Princess has yet to make her appearance.”

             
“Well, if my father wasn’t expecting me back I would go with you.  You know that?”

             
“I know.”  He also knew that Devon did anything his father wanted. It wasn’t that his father was strict or unreasonable.  An illness had spread through the realm many years ago.  It had taken Coran’s mother’s life and had left Devon’s father weakened.  The man needed aid in walking for any real distance and had to use a cane to stand.  Devon remained devoted to him.  Coran also knew that his friend would like nothing better than to come along.  “Maybe you can get away later and join us in Westland.”

             
Devon’s face brightened at the thought.  “I might be able to do that.”  They shook hands vigorously.  “Now that that’s out of the way I have to go back to bed.”  Any need to hurry gone he walked back towards the palace sluggishly with his head down.

             
At that moment a blue painted coach with gold trim along the top and bottom, and a golden sun blazing on the doors, pulled up.  The driver pulled back on the reins and the six-horse team stopped so that the coach was directly in front of the steps.

             
Coran, with nothing else to do, swung into his saddle in one fluid movement just as Sir Loras on a dappled gray trotted alongside.  The man was medium sized and plain looking at first glance.  A good look at his stern face and cold green eyes was proof enough of the man’s experience.  Loras was considered a solid man to have with you in a fight and had risen to become the captain of the king’s guard.  “You will ride with me in the van,” Loras said in a rough voice.  It did not have the sound of a request, but that was just his way.

             
Coran nodded and followed the captain past the mounted column.  Stemis had doubled the escort and then half again so that fifty men in gleaming armor, blue sur coats, and wearing blue cloaks waited for word to advance.  When they reached the front, Coran turned his horse so that he could see the palace steps. 

             
It was another half hour before Katelyn finally emerged along with her family.  She said her good-byes there on the steps.  She hugged her parents and then her sister, exchanging words that he could not hear.  There was another young woman who went straight to the coach.  She had long brown hair, and from here it looked like a serious expression on her face.  As Coran watched, Stemis caught his eye and smiled thinly.  Finished with the farewells, Katelyn walked down the steps as she looked this way and that.

             
She is wondering where I am.
  Coran thought. 
Why I am not there to see her off. 
He knew she didn’t want to be going alone, so knowing that he was along would be good news.  Stemis was playing again with his keeping it from her.  The King had a reputation as a schemer, and he liked to keep his mind sharp.  Unfortunately, he wanted his daughters to be as sharp, which meant that they were sometimes caught up in it.  At least this was relatively innocent. 

             
The driver waved a hand to signal that all was ready.  Loras raised an arm high, then swung it down and urged his horse to a walk.  With military precision the column moved through the city as pedestrians stood off to the side and watched with passing interest.  Groups of soldiers and coaches of dignitaries were not uncommon in the most important city in the West, even a larger force such as this one wouldn’t excite much comment.  After they left the city by the west gate and crossed the bridge, they took the wide highway that headed north. 

             
Coran slowed his horse to let the column pass until he was beside the blue coach, then he nudged the horse’s flanks with his heels to keep pace.  The windows were open since the day was warm.  The coach would be like an oven with the heat of the sun on it.  Katelyn and the other girl sat in the front seats behind the driver for some protection from the dust raised by the front half of the column that would inevitably filter into the coach.  He had to lean over slightly to see through the window. 

             
The two young women sat together on the narrow bench.  The young lady he did not know was watching the green landscape pass by the window on the other side.  Katelyn was staring straight ahead at nothing, oblivious that he was even there.

             
“Good morning ladies,” he greeted them cheerfully. 

             
“Good morning my Lord,” the other girl replied in a very proper tone.

             
His attention was on Katelyn, who was looking at him with her mouth open.  It snapped closed.  “What are you doing here?”   

             
“Your father asked me to accompany you while you are in Westland.”

             
Her eyes narrowed at the mention of her father.  “My father,” she said with disgust.  “I should have known something was up when you were not there to say good-bye.  How long ago did he ask you?”

             
“The night of the party, after the altercation with Torvilin,” he replied uncomfortably.  He had been a part of it, after all.  An unwilling one, but still a part.

             
“I see,” she said frowning, then noticed the look on his face and the frown became a smile.  “I am upset with my father, not you.  You only did what he asked.”

             
“I am glad you realize that,” he stated, relieved. 

“Oh,” she muttered, glancing at the other girl in the coach.  “Alys, this is Coran.”

              The girl reacted as if she had heard the name before.  “I am glad to meet you, my Lord.”

             
“I am glad to meet you as well, my Lady,” he replied with just as much formality. 

             
“I think this journey is going to be much more enjoyable than I first thought,” Katelyn commented to herself, but loud enough for him to hear.

             
They left the rolling hills around the river for the grassy plains.  It only took a day and part of the next morning for them to reach the edge of the Gaen woods.  They were able to travel quickly thanks to the well maintained highway.   This was only one of a system of roads that crossed the Plain, and parts of Westland and Taragon and the other kingdoms of Midia. 

             
As he rode he noticed that only along the road where the trees had been cleared away did the sunlight reach the ground.  To each side, the light dimmed under the thick canopy of ancient oaks.  This was regarded as a special place by all who encountered it.  In all the time since the Midians first came to this land there had not been one story of fire ever touching these woods.  It became a natural backdrop for stories of magic and monsters; a place where the natural order of things did not apply.  Like the mountains of the far north that were so high only the mythical dragons could reach the icy peaks.  Or the deserts of the south that people entered and never left, and if they did they were changed forever.  Of course the tales always happened a long time ago and it was always heard from somebody who heard it from somebody else.  Coran didn’t pretend to know everything that was possible or impossible, but he did not see any vengeful spirits lurking among the branches, waiting to steal their souls. 

             
Not that there were no dangers for which to be aware.  Forest cats, said to grow as large as a horse, prowled the mysterious woodland.  He did not believe it, until he saw one moving fluidly back among the trees.  It had to be about eight feet long and over four feet at the shoulder.  He did not know if they grew any bigger, but the one he saw was big enough for him.  It was not likely that such a large group of men would be attacked.  The cats rarely went for humans anyway, or so people said.

             
He did feel a certain presence among the trees when he tried to open up his mind.  It was almost as if they were aware of the armed men who intruded on their rightful place in the world.  Could trees actually be sentient?  No, it was not exactly like that.  Coran shook his head to break the connection.  He had to be imagining it.

             
They stopped for the night at a walled complex garrisoned by men of the Sun Plain whose job it was to patrol this stretch of the forest road.  The concealment of the trees made the road a target for bandits not easily frightened by the eerie woods.  There was not enough room for the entire escort so the guardsmen set up a camp outside the walls.  Nearby, several rough wooden houses crowded together amongst the good sized trees.  Most of the people who lived in the Gaen woods did so in isolated cabins or small villages.  The exception was along the edge of the woods where a number of fair sized villages could be found.  From there men could hunt the vast forest which teamed with wildlife.  This was one of the few so called villages that took advantage of the well-traveled highway between Summerhall and Westhaven.  The dried meat and hides they collected could be traded for other things unavailable here.  Wood was not one of the exports since no one would cut down a tree in these woods except out of dire need, such as for firewood.  The hides of the great cats were prized, which made hunting them a profitable, yet dangerous occupation.              

The accommodations offered at the garrison were small, yet clean.  One of the buildings had rooms for merchants who passed by and other travelers since there were no inns until a person reached the other side of the forest. 

              The fort’s commander, a young lieutenant, was honored to be entertaining the Princess herself.  Over dinner the officer reported on the monotonous winter and how he looked forward to his rotation back to Summerhall.  After the weary conversation with Lieutenant Brosky they each sought their beds.

             
The next day their party passed a similar complex, this one manned by men in the green and yellow of Westland.  It was too early in the day for stopping so they decided to keep going.  They escaped from the dreary woods shortly after nightfall and made their camp beneath the stars. 

             
The guardsmen made short work of setting up tents, first for her highness and then for themselves.  The men broke into five groups, each with their own cook fire.  The groups were arranged in a circle around two square tents; one for Katelyn and Alys, one for Coran and Captain Loras. 

             
Sparks jumped from the crackling fire, murmured voices carried from the other groups accompanied by the occasional, crude laughter of soldiers.  By the firelight Coran could see the men’s shadowed shapes gathered around talking.  Anything beyond the circle of fires was lost to the night.

             
Coran sat cross-legged on the ground, next to him was Loras who was sharpening his sword.  He moved the blade over a whetstone with long, practiced strokes.  Alys and Katelyn came over from their tent and sat down by the fire.  They wore cloaks against the night’s chill.              

             
“Captain Loras, how much longer until we reach Westhaven?” the Princess asked, holding her cloak tightly.