Sir Bentley and Holbrook Court (22 page)

“Can I stay with you?” Anya said. “I love sleeping outside.”

“Are you sure you won't be afraid of the night sounds?”

“Why should I be?” she asked matter-of-factly “I have a knight to protect me.”

Bentley laughed. “Well then, little princess, of course you can stay with me.”

Before long everyone was settled into their beds, and Anya was snuggled up next to Bentley outside. They gazed up at the billions of bright, twinkling stars, for the sky seemed full of them tonight.

“Can you tell me a story now?” Anya asked.

Bentley sighed. He felt the pull of the previous day's ordeal and the long journey tugging on his consciousness. Even speaking was becoming difficult as he let his body melt into the comfort of rest.

“How about you tell
me
a story tonight, Anya?”

She thought for a moment.

“There once was a brave knight who rode across the kingdom of Arrethtrae on a gallant steed, looking for a fair maiden…and a little girl…”

Bentley smiled, but each word his little narrator spoke pulled his eyelids lower, and her voice became distant and hollow until he heard no more…

Bentley was riding, and the day was warm. He had to meet Sir Demus soon, but first he had to ride through the forest to the falls. Silverwood carried him to the rocky shore, where Eirwyn stood illumined beneath the countless crystal clear droplets that fell from above.

So beautiful. His heart filled with joy. Each droplet sparkled in the morning sun, and she seemed to glow in its wash.

He raised his hand and shouted to her. She looked up and smiled at him in that same way that made him never want to leave her again. She waved back as if she were thrilled that he would soon be with her.

Bentley gripped Silverwood's reins tightly and prepared to close the distance between him and his love, but just then he saw something that brought chills to his spine. A large dark shadow rose up behind her in the watery curtain. Though the figure was distorted by the dancing light, there was no doubt in Bentley's mind what it was.

He shouted to warn her, but she could not hear him. She just continued to smile and wave back. Bentley saw the creature rise up on its hind haunches, the collar skin spread wide. This Yagormoth seemed twice as large as the one he had slain.

Bentley drew his sword and pressed Silverwood into a full gallop, but it was too late. The massive beast pounced from behind the falls, and he heard Eirwyn scream. Bentley's heart raced, and the world seemed to collapse around him.

“Eirwyn!”
He tried to scream, but he could not speak. Something was pressing against his throat. The sun disappeared, and the edges of his nightmare faded away to blackness.

Bentley broke from his dream and realized that it was not Eirwyn who had screamed, but Luanne. Still groggy, Bentley fumbled to rise, but the steel blade that was pressed across his neck pinned him to the earth. As
his mind fully awakened to reality, his heart continued to race. He reached for his sword or his knife, but his belt had been cast aside.

“Try anything and I will end your life right now!” The voice spoke closely to his ear. It was familiar but much darker than before. “Get up!”

Avarick grabbed Bentley by his shoulder and dragged him to his feet, keeping the edge of his blade pressed tightly against his throat. Bentley was amazed at the man's strength. A strangling fear welled up within him, not for himself, but for Walsch, Luanne, her family, and—Anya! He looked frantically about in the early dawn light for his small charge, but he could not see her. On the porch, two of Avarick's warriors were bludgeoning Walsch, and Bentley heard screams and commotion inside the cabin.

“No need to hurt them, Avarick,” Bentley gasped. “It's me you came for.”

Avarick chortled wickedly. “Oh, I've come for so much more than you.”

The two warriors dragged Walsch off the porch and threw him into the dirt. Three others pushed Luanne and her family out of the cabin. Luanne ran over to Walsch and tried to help him stand. Blood poured down his face, and one eye was red and swollen. The family was herded closer to Bentley and Avarick. He saw terror in their eyes.

Just then a rider came galloping onto their farm from the east.

“Where are they?” Avarick asked him.

“Not far,” the man replied. “Two hours at most.”

“Good,” Avarick said. “Take care of the lookout guards, and have the rest of my men ready.”

The warrior saluted and galloped off toward Holbrook Castle. Avarick slammed Bentley up against the tree, the knife blade still against his neck. He glared into Bentley's eyes with loathing. Bentley realized he had far underestimated Avarick's potential for evil—because only now did he realize who Avarick really was.

“You're a Shadow—”

Avarick pressed the knife tighter to cut off the words. Avarick smiled wickedly, his eyes so full of darkness that Bentley had to shudder.

“And you're a Knight of the Prince.” Avarick shook his head back and forth condescendingly. “Tell me, knave, is it true that all of you want to be like… Him?” Avarick made a disgusted face. “Is it?”

Bentley didn't respond. His mind was racing through the possible outcomes of this terror.

“Well, let me help you.” Avarick motioned with his head toward two of his warriors. One of them ran to his horse and mounted up, while the other tied Bentley's hands behind him.

“If I remember right—oh yes, I was there—your Prince hung in a tree. Well, here's a tree and there's a rope. How appropriate. Now you can be just like your foolish Prince.”

The mounted warrior brought a rope to them. He swung one end over a limb of the tree and tied it. The other warrior retrieved Silver-wood from where he grazed nearby and boosted Bentley onto his back. A noose was looped around his neck.

“You're the one to blame for what's happening here, knave,” Avarick said. “Confusing Kingsley stirring up the people—they were delightfully miserable. I suppose I do owe you a debt of gratitude, though,” he mocked. “Because of you, I now know who the Mercy Maiden is. All along, I thought she was some poor wench of no significance. Although you foiled my plans once, now there will be nothing to stop me from destroying her and making all of Holbrook fully mine.”

Bentley looked sadly toward Walsch and Luanne. He did feel somewhat responsible for the tragedy that was befalling them.

Avarick began to laugh. “Don't you get it, boy? You've been taken in by a fairy tale. Lucius always wins. He's the real prince of Arrethtrae!”

Avarick slapped the horse, and Silverwood jerked forward. The rope drew tight on Bentley's neck as he was whisked off the horse, and his airway was immediately cut off. The strain on his neck was ten times more than anything he could have imagined.

At first he kicked his feet in defiance against the pain, but that only made it worse. He could barely hear the uproarious laughter of Avarick and his warriors, mixed with the weeping of Luanne and her family The color of the world slowly faded to gray and then to black. Even though his eyes were open, he could no longer see.

My Prince, where are You?
he wondered.

Snippets of sound still reached him—a shrill whinny, a scuffle. Avarick's voice saying, “No time to catch the horse. Take them to the…” Then the sounds of the world faded away too. His last thought was of Eirwyn, glowing beneath the splash of the Crimson River falls. Then she vanished, and all was still.

THE DEATH
OF LOVE

The rain was warm, which surprised him, since he remembered the morning skies had been free of clouds. Bentley liked the sensation, though, and he let the drops freely moisten his cheeks. The thunder sounded odd to him, though, and he wondered what strange storm had come. It sounded more like the wails of a child than the usual rumblings of the skies.

Bentley's mind very slowly shuffled through sounds and senses that bombarded his head from within and without. He tried to move his hand, but someone seemed to have staked it to the ground. He tried to open his eyes, but they felt like they were sewn shut.

The pain returned all at once. His head pounded as though someone were hitting him with a mallet from inside his skull. As excruciating as it was, the pain helped him return to reality, and he opened his eyes to see the distraught face of his little Anya. His head was in her lap, and though her eyes were closed, her tears were falling upon his face.

“Anya…” He tried to speak, but only a whisper came out.

She opened her eyes and cried all the more.

“Bentley… you're alive!” She wiped her eyes to see him better.

He rolled over and tried to sit up, but the pain was too great. He held his head for a few moments and felt Anya's hands brush his cheek.

“Are you all right, Bentley?”

Bentley looked at her as he rubbed his neck. “I will be.”

He looked about. Other than Silverwood, who was now grazing nearby, Anya was the only one with him. He looked up into the tree and saw the rope had been severed near the branch. The knife from his belt lay nearby.

He looked back at Anya. “Did you… ?” he asked, not believing what he saw. She could hardly walk, let alone climb a tree.

She nodded.

“But how?”

She bit her lip and pointed to the knife on the ground. “They didn't see when they left. You were going to die. I just… had to.”

Bentley looked at her in amazement and then scooped her into his arms.

“You are as brave as a knight, my little princess. Thank you for saving my life! The heart of the Prince is in you.”

Anya hugged him back, and he drew great strength and courage from the pure and courageous heart of the lass.

Silverwood seemed agitated. He snorted and pawed the ground nervously. Bentley knew that something was unsettling the battle-trained horse. He quickly secured his belt, sword, and knife and mounted up. He lifted Anya onto the saddle in front of him and rode to the top of a knoll. Only then did he understand the tragedy that was unfolding.

Far to the east of the castle, Bentley could just make out hundreds of black specks moving toward Holbrook. An invasion of some kind was coming, and there was no alarm from the castle. Bentley squinted hard toward the distant figures, trying to determine the size of their force, but Anya began to pull on his tunic.