Having ridden through the castle gate and into the small courtyard, Alaric pulled Maggie up to a halt and dismounted. Ulden and his escort were doing the same. The clatter of hooves and shouts echoed off the walls. Half a dozen stable hands, young boys, ran forward with eager energy to take the horses’ reins and lead them away.
It had been a few months since Alaric had last been to Krin Hall, the small castle named after Braekor’s grandfather, the first Earl of Kanar. When Alaric had been a child, Braekor had taken this land by force from a sworn enemy, killing his opponent in personal combat and claiming the title of earl.
The familiar sight of Krin Hall’s block-like central keep, the sturdy tower and thick walls overgrown with ivy, greeted him like an old friend. Unlike in the capital, Alaric could relax some here, almost make himself at home.
Though smaller and less imposing than Dragon Bone’s Rest, Krin Hall held its own quaint charm. Set deep within the forests of Kanar, it stood beside Miller’s Corner, a modest town nestled along a winding road and a small river called Fast Run. During his last visit, Alaric had learned the river was filled with trout. He and Ulden had spent an entire day simply fishing, relaxing on the riverbank, and talking the hours away while they cast lines. They had returned with a healthy catch. Alaric let go a breath. There would be no time for such things this visit.
Rikka and Kiera had dismounted. Thorne and Ezran followed suit, scanning for threats, their keen eyes working to take in every detail and face amidst the chaos about them. Alaric’s escort of foot soldiers had come to a halt. The men were gazing around curiously, their mouths nearly hanging open. A corporal led the detail, his posture reflecting both his duty and awe. Alaric figured there was a good chance it was the first time these men had ever left Dekar’s borders or, for that matter, had ever been in a castle, other than his own.
The courtyard buzzed with activity. Chickens clucked and pecked at the ground while a pair of dogs, hunting hounds, darted around, sniffing at the newcomers and barking excitedly. Alaric took a deep breath, savoring the familiar scents and sounds. It felt good to be back at Krin Hall, even if it was just for a short visit, a mere handful of hours before he had to set off again and march to war.
“Make sure my horse is well taken care of, brushed down, and fed,” Alaric instructed the stable hand who had come to take his horse, a lad no older than twelve with a shock of bright red hair. The boy nodded eagerly and took the reins of Alaric’s mount, leading Maggie away with a firm but gentle hand toward the stables along the north wall.
Alaric turned around to find Thorne, who was adjusting his sword belt. Thorne’s horse was also being led away for the stables. His gaze was running around the courtyard once more, eyeing those nearest.
“Thorne,” Alaric said, getting the other’s attention.
“My lord.” Thorne turned his attention to Alaric.
“See that Jaxen’s men get properly billeted and fed for the night.”
“Yes, my lord,” Thorne said with a nod of assurance. “What about a guard detail for you tonight?” He looked over as Ezran joined them. “Ezran and I will take turns standing duty, but with the Black Hand here in Kanar… I think it would be wise for more men to be posted outside your quarters.”
Alaric gave an understanding nod. The threat of the Black Hand had been a dark shadow since the attack. There had been no way to know if more of the assassins had been sent. It was now clear more were out there. That they were in Kanar meant he could not allow his guard fully down, sadly, not even here. “How many would you recommend?”
“Four outside your quarters at all times,” Ezran interjected before Thorne could respond, his sharp eyes scanning the courtyard once more.
Thorne gave a nod of agreement. “With one of us on hand at all times, that will work, my lord.”
“Then make it happen,” Alaric said.
Thorne turned away, moving with purpose toward the guard detail and the corporal to pass along the orders.
Ezran lingered, his hand patting the hilt of his sword. “The Black Hand won’t catch us off guard, my lord,” he said quietly, his voice steady. “Not again.”
“My dear Alaric, it’s been so long—too long.”
Alaric turned to find Sissa, Braekor’s wife, approaching with her characteristic warmth. She was a short woman, standing just under five feet, plump with an honest face that radiated kindness. Her graying brown hair was tied into short braids. Her arms were wide open, inviting, and expecting a hug.
Alaric swept her up into his arms, lifting her off the ground, and received a wet kiss on the cheek. She giggled like a little girl as he set her down.
“You stink,” Sissa said, scrunching up her nose.
“I do,” Alaric admitted with a chuckle. “It’s been an overly hot day and we’ve come a long way.”
“Still, it is good to see you, my dear boy,” Sissa said, her eyes twinkling with delight. “How is your mother? How is my good friend Elara doing?”
“She is well,” Alaric replied, a fond smile touching his lips. “I left her home to watch over Grayson, who is running things in my absence.”
“I’ve always liked that man,” Sissa said, nodding appreciatively. “He has a good heart. He is loyal to a fault, not to mention nice to look at. Though don’t tell Braekor I said that…”
“My lips are sealed.” Alaric caught sight of Ulden breaking away from his men and working his way across the courtyard to join them. “Though I may have to tell Grayson you said so.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” Blushing furiously, Sissa shot him a scandalized look.
“Mother,” Ulden said, gesturing at Alaric as he joined them, “look what the cat dragged home.”
Sissa giggled at her son’s remark, the sound as light and joyous as a bell. Alaric felt himself already relaxing a tad. He was amongst friends. When he traveled beyond the confines of Dekar, he could not always claim that.
“While my army continues the march and camps a few miles up the road, your son agreed to put us up for the night, my lady,” Alaric said. “I trust we are not imposing overly much.”
“Not at all, my boy, not at all,” Sissa replied. “It is always an honor to have you in my home. It is just a shame Braekor is not here to welcome you himself.”
Alaric felt his heart warm at her words, for they were said with genuine sincerity. Since he’d returned home to Kevahn, Braekor’s family had been nothing but kind to his. After they’d learned of the affair with Laval, Braekor had even offered to stand with him if the duke retaliated or tried anything further.
“I am sure I will be seeing Braekor soon enough,” Alaric said.
A dark cloud passed over Sissa’s face. It lasted a heartbeat, but Alaric read the naked worry residing within her gaze. “Ulden sent word on ahead that you would be joining us,” Sissa continued, glancing away toward the keep’s entrance. “I’ve had the cooks hard at work all day and the guest rooms cleaned. Your stay here should be quite pleasant.”
“That is very kind of you,” Rikka said, stepping forward with a grateful smile. “And it always is pleasant.”
Sissa gasped, her eyes lighting up with delight. She rushed forward, brushing past Alaric, and engulfed the lumina in a bear hug, shaking her back and forth. “I can’t believe he brought you! I just can’t believe it.” Pulling back some, she looked over at Alaric with an unhappy and accusing expression. “Why are you taking her to war? I would like you to explain that one to me.”
“As if he had a choice in the matter.” Rikka laughed, a sound that Alaric loved hearing, and hugged the old woman back. After several moments, they broke apart, still holding each other’s hands. “I go where he goes. Such are the commands of our god.” She paused, looking into the other woman’s eyes. “How are you, Sissa?”
“Getting older with each passing day, my dear lumina.” Sissa lowered her tone conspiratorially. “We must talk about magic. I’ve been practicing what you taught me. I have been working hard at it, each and every day.”
Alaric found himself surprised. He had no idea that magic could be taught, let alone that Rikka had given Sissa some schooling on the matter. He’d always thought magic was something one was born with, or given by Eldanar, a rare and potentially powerful gift.
“Have you been studying?” Rikka asked, eyes narrowing skeptically, as if looking for deceit.
“Oh yes. Through the meditation exercises, I feel Eldanar a little more every day,” Sissa confided, her eyes shining with excitement and a hint of pride. “There are days I can really feel his touch quite strongly. Oh—oh, and I can’t wait to show you… I’ve even managed to light a candle with magic.”
“She has,” Ulden said, looking from Rikka to Alaric. “When she did it, I was enjoying a good ale with my father and spilled it all over myself.”
“What was your father’s reaction?” Alaric asked.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
“He fell out of his chair.”
Alaric chuckled at that one.
“That is a very good sign,” Rikka said. “Eldanar is the path forward, the light in the darkness. That you have accomplished so much already shows God is pleased. You may be ready for the next stage of your journey.”
“I am,” Sissa said eagerly. “I am more than ready to learn more.”
“That will require intensive dedication and practice, several hours each day,” Rikka said. “If you are truly ready and I judge you so after feeling you wield the mana, I will teach you the rites and way of the next level.”
“I just love you,” Sissa said and hugged Rikka once more. “I am so excited to show you all I can do.”
“And I am excited to see it,” Rikka said.
“We shall have to talk. Yes, talk we shall. Tonight, at the feast, you sit by me, my dear. We’ll talk, yes? Then, later, after everyone has gone, you will teach me more?”
“We shall talk,” Rikka replied warmly. “I want to hear all about your studies and if you are ready for the next stage of your journey, then, as I have said, I will begin teaching you more.”
Sissa nodded vigorously, then turned to look closely at Alaric. “When are you going to make this woman honest?”
“She’s been blessed by Eldanar himself,” Alaric countered. “It doesn’t get any purer than that.”
Sissa scowled at him. “Don’t be funny with me, boy. You know what I mean, marry her and start a family…”
Alaric looked over at Rikka and their eyes met. In them, he read love and a deep hurt, one that, no matter what he did, seemed to be growing by the day. He felt like he could lose himself to her gaze. “She already is family, just not in the way that is expected.”
“It is not up to him,” Rikka said before Sissa could say more. “It is Eldanar’s desire that keeps him from wedding me. Otherwise, he would have brought me to the altar and made me his—wife.”
“I would have done so in a heartbeat,” Alaric admitted, his gaze still on Rikka.
Sissa looked between them both, then waved a dismissive hand. “I will pray for you two, then, and fervently at that. Perhaps, since he is approving of me, Eldanar will listen to this old woman and give you both an opportunity to be happy.” She glanced behind her, and her face clouded. “I had best check on the kitchen and the staff, make sure everything is ready. There is no telling what they might do wrong in my absence.”
Without another word, Sissa hurried through the dispersing crowd toward the keep’s main entrance. Alaric glanced around and noticed only a handful of sentries manning the walls, along with two standing down by the gatehouse. Idly, he wondered how many men-at-arms had remained behind to defend the family’s interests while Braekor was gone. It could not be very many. The castle was likely now defended by no more than a couple dozen men.
“My mother is terribly excited by the prospect of company,” Ulden said with a grin, glancing back the way she had gone. “It’s been weeks since we have entertained, and with my father being away, well… she is lonely, and this gives her an opportunity to put her worries aside, at least for a time. I hope you will forgive her enthusiasm.”
“There is nothing to forgive,” Alaric said. “I am certain my own mother is lonely too.” He paused as a thought occurred to him. “Perhaps you and I can arrange regular visits for them both? After all, Dragon Bone’s Rest is only a day’s carriage ride away. I think they would both enjoy that.”
“That”—Ulden shook a finger at Alaric while nodding—“is really not a bad idea. My mother has been terribly worried about my father. He is getting older, and war is a young man’s game. At least she says so. I should have gone in his stead, only he bade me remain and look after our interests here.” Ulden once more looked in the direction his mother had gone. “Some travel would take her mind off things, ease her worrying some.”
“Then it is settled,” Alaric said. “I shall write my mother tonight and tell her Sissa will be coming for a visit.”
“Nothing is ever truly settled with my mother,” Ulden cautioned. “I will suggest a visit to her. She will have to make her own mind up on the matter.”
“And I will tell your mother at dinner that my mother could use some cheering up,” Alaric said.
“I will encourage some as well,” Rikka said.
“That,” Ulden said sagely with a nod, “should work nicely. She has always enjoyed Elara’s company and should feel compelled to go, especially if your mother is lonely too. It is as good an excuse as any. Between the three of us, I dare say we can make this happen.”
“Ulden, do you have a place for us to freshen up?” Rikka asked. “We have been traveling much of the day and I am covered in dust from the road, not to mention sticky from the sweat. I would really like to bathe, wash my hair, and make myself presentable before dinner.”
“Right,” Ulden said, “this way. I will show you to your room.”
He began leading them away. Alaric hesitated and glanced back. The two mules the infantry had brought with them had been carrying his and Rikka’s packs. Ezran and Kiera now had them in hand. Satisfied, Alaric nodded gratefully and gestured for Rikka to go first. She had turned to see why he’d stopped. She followed after Ulden, who led them both to the keep’s entrance. The heavily reinforced door was open, revealing a darkened corridor that ran ten yards before ending at another door. Several other closed doors led off the corridor to different parts of the keep.
Lantern light lit the way ahead, casting a warm, flickering glow that danced against the walls. The temperature dropped immediately once they were inside, the plastered stone of the keep acting as an insulator against the day’s heat, not to mention the humidity.
With its thick walls and wooden doors, the corridor had an ancient, sturdy, and timeless feel. The scent of aged wood and faint traces of herbs used for cleaning filled the air, driving away any mustiness or general stink.
Ulden stopped at the door at the far end, opened it, and then stepped through. Rikka and Alaric followed and found themselves in a small great room, very much like his own at Dragon Bone’s Rest. The smell of food was strong. Several servants were busy putting down place settings and pouring goblets of wine and ale.
The hall was cozy, with a large fireplace crackling warmly at one end. Tapestries depicting scenes of hunting and feasting adorned the walls, adding a touch of color and history. The tables were already laden with platters of roasted meats, bowls of seasoned vegetables, and trays of ripe fruit. The scent of herbs and spices, especially garlic, mingled with the aroma of the freshly baked bread. Alaric’s stomach rumbled at the thought and smell of fresh food.
“This way.” Ulden led them to the back of the hall, to a set of stone stairs. “It is a shame that war is afoot. My mother would enjoy a longer stay.”
“I know,” Alaric said as he climbed the steps to the next floor. “I would enjoy that as well. Perhaps after this issue with Averndale is put to bed, we can arrange that.”
“When the war is over,” Rikka said, her voice filled with hope, “there will be more time for such things, extended visits.”
“Quite right,” Ulden said as he started up the next flight of stairs. Behind them came Ezran and Kiera. The sound of their hobnailed boots echoed against the stone walls. “Here we are.”
A second-floor hallway spread out before them, lined with four doors on either side. Lanterns hanging from wrought-iron sconces cast a warm, flickering light that pushed back against the shadows. There were no other exits besides the stairs they had just climbed. This was the guest wing of the keep.
Ulden led them to the nearest door on the left and pushed it open, revealing a spacious room with a large bed, a wooden chest for personal possessions, and a small writing desk, complete with inkwell and parchment. The room was modestly furnished but comfortable, with thick tapestries on the walls to ward off the chill from the stone at night. A small fireplace was set into the far wall, with wood stacked and ready to be lit if needed.
Alaric stepped inside and studied the room. It was small, but well-appointed. It had two windows, shutters open, allowing in the light of the day. There was a side room for one to conduct a personal toilet. A lit oil lamp inside revealed a washbasin, along with several jugs of water.
“I trust this is acceptable?” Ulden asked.
“It is perfect,” Rikka said.
“Good. The room across the hall has been set aside for your Shadow Guard. I know how you like them close at hand, and with the Black Hand about, I don’t blame you that. In fact, if you wish to quarter your entire escort here, this wing is yours.”
“I appreciate all you have done,” Alaric said. “These quarters beat a tent and a cot.”
“Good, then I shall leave you both to change and clean up. I will do the same and see you downstairs in, say, an hour and a half?”
“That works,” Alaric said, and with that, Ulden left them, heading for the stairs.
“Where do you want the packs?” Ezran asked.
“There, please,” Rikka said, pointing to the bed.
Alaric eyed the bed. It looked comfortable enough and certainly beat the cot he’d slept on the night before. Kiera and Ezran set the packs down at the foot of the bed. Ezran glanced around the room once, went to one of the windows and looked out, staring straight down. Seemingly satisfied that it was safe and no one could reasonably scale their way up, he gave Kiera a curt nod.
“I will take Lord Ulden up on his offer,” Ezran said, “and move all of our men up here. Better have them close at hand than down in the barracks.”
“That’s fine. Just make sure they stay out of trouble,” Alaric said.
“Yes, my lord,” Ezran said.
“Should you have any problems, one of us will be right outside at all times,” Kiera said.
“Thank you,” Rikka said. “Make sure you both take time to clean up as well—before the feast, that is.”
“We will, my lady lumina,” Kiera said. They both filed out of the room, closing the door behind them.
Alaric moved to the bed and pressed down on the bed cover, feeling the softness of the mattress beneath his fingers. It was likely stuffed with goose feathers. Rikka walked over to the washbasin in the side room, pouring water from the jug into the basin. She splashed the cool water on her face and began washing away the dust with a towel that had been set next to the basin on a small table.
“This place really is a sanctuary,” she said, looking at Alaric as she continued to work away the dust. “I have enjoyed our visits here. I like Krin Hall very much.”
“We’re alone,” Alaric said.
“Yes, alone.” Rikka went to her pack and untied the flap. She rummaged inside before pulling out a wool dress that had been dyed a rich blue. She looked up at him. “You need to make yourself presentable. Get undressed and get to work.”
“Is that an order?”
“It is.”
Alaric began to untie the straps of his armor. It would be good to get the heavy thing off. He glanced at the bed again and then at Rikka.
“We only have little over an hour,” Rikka reminded him, catching his look and clearly picking up on his thoughts.
“That’s enough time for some fun,” Alaric said with a playful grin.
“For you maybe.” She let out a laugh and shook her head. “Seriously, we need to clean up and make ourselves ready. My hair alone will take some time.”
“Can’t you magic it?” Alaric asked.
She turned a hard look on him. “It doesn’t work that way. And if I tried, Eldanar would likely frown on the use of his gift in such a manner. Now, clean up. You are wasting time.”
A little disappointed but understanding, Alaric finished untying the straps holding his breastplate in place. He lifted his chest armor over his head and carefully set it on the stone with a heavy clunk. Michael had not made the trip with them. He would need to spend some time cleaning it later. He could leave it for the keep’s servants, but he did not know them. They might damage it.
The padded leather jacket he wore under the plate was almost soaked through with sweat. Alaric knew he’d smell terribly once he removed it and the shirt underneath that. He glanced toward the washbasin, knowing he had his work cut out.
“Yes,” Rikka said, noticing his look. She wrinkled her nose. “You already smell, and we’ll both need to use that basin.”
Alaric found himself frowning at her.
She pointed at the washroom and stamped her foot impatiently. “Now. Get to work.”
“Yes, my love,” Alaric said, moving to obey.
In the washroom, Alaric peeled off the damp padded jacket and the shirt beneath, feeling the cool air against his naked skin. It was a sweet relief. He poured more water into the basin, the coolness refreshing as he splashed it onto his face and torso. He dipped a hand towel into the water and began to work the grime of the day away.
As he worked, he glanced back into the room. Rikka had stripped bare. She was standing there, in her true form. Once more, Alaric marveled at the astounding beauty of her elven form, the statuesque look about her. She was a goddess of love incarnate. Just the sight of her sometimes stole his breath, and this was one of those times. He felt a deep stirring of desire. She looked up and caught his look. A small knowing smile spread across her face. “Later.”
“Is that a promise?”
“It is most definitely a promise.”