The three knights woke with the sun and packed up camp, while the rest slept a while longer. They had no breakfast. There was none to be had. The boys looked a little better than they had the night before, but not much. The mortality still showed in their young, emaciated faces. The group was off not an hour after the sun had appeared. They were all tired, and hungry, and cold, but the morning sun shined down on them, giving them all the slightest bit of comfort.
They were riding downhill now. There could no longer be any mistaking it, as there had the past few days. The decline became noticeable before noon, and unmistakable soon after. They could all feel their horses moving faster as they went down the snowy path. But as the sun made its slow travel across the cloudless sky, the decline became so steep that they had to slow once again. As the sun began to set, Maryk knew they were at last close to the end of the pass. He had been through this pass, and he knew how fast the end came up.
When the sun was finally down, they stopped to make camp again. They could now see the vast, dark forest spread out below them. They had begun to see birds as they moved further down out of the mountains, and Henrick had already shot down four of them.
They all felt hope for the first time in days. The camp went up easily, and the fire was simple to manage as well, as it wasn’t quite as windy this far down. The boys were awake now, and seemingly alert, and everyone felt more at ease.
“Will we leave the pass tomorrow, Ser Maryk?” Sasha asked, sitting beside the fire with Peter nestled in her lap.
“Aye, my lady,” Maryk nodded. “By midday tomorrow, we’ll be out. It will still be cold mind you, but there will be trees for shelter. And better game than these sorry carrion birds. No offense, lad,” he added with a wry smile to Henrick.
“Those sorry carrion birds are keeping these boys alive, mate,” Henrick responded, staring down his long, pointed nose at Maryk.
“Aye, that they are,” Maryk nodded, both in agreement and with approval for his young counterpart.
“And we thank you for it, Ser Henrick,” Sasha said, flashing a stunningly white smile at the young knight. “For my family, my brothers alive and dead, and my sweet parents, I thank you, Ser.”
“You're most welcome, my lady,” Henrick responded, flashing his own crooked, slightly yellow smile back at the young lady. Neither Will nor Maryk failed to notice the exchange. Maryk could see the look on Will’s face as he looked to his sister. The boy was right. Henrick was overstepping. It was neither the time nor the place. Perhaps when they reached safety, but not on the road. Maryk knew it could only lead to trouble, and he made a mental note to speak with Henrick alone.
“But there will be real game down there, right?” Will asked, looking longingly down at the blackness of the forest below. “Something to fill our bellies, not just keep us alive?”
“Aye, lad,” Maryk nodded. “There will be something richer to eat down there.”
“And I’ll be the one to kill it for us,” Henrick said. Maryk’s thin lips pursed into a frown, and he pushed himself up and stomped off through the snow, to keep the night watch.
“The young ones,” Ser Gilbert spoke up. His huge, hulking body was bent over the fire, shielding it well from the wind, and casting a great, black shadow across the rocks behind him. “How are they faring?”
“Better, Ser Gilbert,” Sasha said, hugging Peter closer to her. He was barely awake, staring blankly into the fire. He had been in a similar state since they had fled their home. The cold and the thin air of the mountains had put the boy to sleep, and they had all feared for him. But as they rode down, the boy was slowly waking. “He’s a strong boy, Ser.”
“Aye, my lady,” Gilbert nodded with a kind smile. “As are all I've known of your family.” Sasha gave the weathered, old knight her own kind smile, and then turned to her brother.
“Do you think we should go to this castle?” She asked Will. The two knights exchanged quick glances, but stayed quiet, listening to the siblings speak.
“I think Peter needs a roof,” Will said seriously, looking down at his little brother’s blank expression. “And a hot bath. He needs to know the whole world hasn’t ended. He’s too young for all this.”
“I know,” Sasha said sadly, holding back her tears again. She had never been a girl that was quick to tears, but lately the slightest thought of her young brother’s fear could bring the tears to the fore. “None of this should have happened. But it did. And we will make do with what we have, as father always taught us.”
“Father never taught us to live in the woods,” Will pointed out dolefully.
“Not to worry, lad. Mine did,” Henrick smiled. “You’ll have food, and fire. That’s enough to keep a man alive.”
“And the horses?” Will asked. “Will we have enough food to keep all of them alive too?”
“I don’t know those woods,” Henrick replied, sitting up straight and blushing slightly. “If there are the right plants, then aye. It will keep them all alive. Four of them at the least.”
“The horses aren’t the concern yet, lad,” Gilbert interjected. “First food for us, and a night’s sleep without the wind in our faces. Then we’ll go to this castle. We’ll find food for the horses there.”
“Do you know this castle, Ser?” Will asked.
“I've not come through this pass in thirty years,” Gilbert sighed, shaking his head. “If I ever did, I've forgotten it long ago.”
“Ser Maryk knows the castle,” Sasha said. “He will be able to tell us what we wish to know?”
“What do you wish to know, my lady?” Maryk’s voice carried in with the wind. He appeared out of the black night, and sat back down by the fire, crossing his legs and looking to the girl.
“How big a castle is it, Ser Maryk?” Sasha asked, holding her head tall and staring the stony knight in his stern, brown eyes.
“Big enough,” Maryk grunted, turning away from her piercing gaze, and staring into the fire instead. “Three towers and a battlement as I remember it, and a small town beneath. One hundred and fifty people like as not, mayhap less.”
“And the lord?” Sasha asked, already thinking things over in her head. She had met enough lords, and future lords, to know not to trust them easily.
“Lord Bellard was lord last I knew,” Maryk said, thinking hard to remember what he knew about Lord Bellard Lothston. He remembered him as a fat, old lord, no more pompous than most, though no less either. The small town was quant, and would provide them the comforts they dearly needed. Lord Bellard’s loyalties had been with the old king, but so had many others who had betrayed him in the end. “He is no fighter, and a gracious host to those he is happy to host,” Maryk went on. “We must be careful though. Right now, no castle can truly be safe for us. I think it best for us to keep moving, my lady.”
“We appreciate your caution, Ser,” Will said. “But we must rest. We all need a night of shelter and warmth, the boys more than anyone. We will not be killed for spending one night in a castle, Ser.”
“Pray that you are right, boy,” Maryk grunted. “And let it be one night. We aren’t staying there for a week so the little lad can heal. We must needs be on as fast as we can.”
“If Peter requires more than a day to recover, then we’ll stay more than a day, Ser,” Sasha said in a stern voice, sounding to all of them like her mother.
“You aren’t in charge here, my lady,” Maryk said irately, getting back to his feet. “Nor are you, boy,” he added to Will. “One day,” he growled at them. “No more.” And then he skulked off back into the darkness of the night, to spend the night awake in the cold blackness.
“He may be right,” Will said quietly, hoping Sasha wouldn’t turn her fury on him. He loved his sister, but he had seen her wrath often enough to know to avoid it at all costs. “One night should be enough. Peter will get a proper rest, and food, and a wash. That will be enough for now.”
“We’ll see,” Sasha said. She hugged Peter close, and lay down in the dirt. Henrick got up, took a heavy cloak from his horse, and threw it over them both. Sasha gave him another warm smile, turned back to Peter, and began to sing for him. It was a sweet song, made sweeter by her soft voice. It was an old song their mother had sung to them when they were little. Will had to hold back his own tears as he listened to his mother’s words float about him in his sister’s lovely voice. Even old, grizzled Ser Gilbert closed his eyes and smiled as he listened to the soft sounds of Sasha’s voice blend with the cold, whistling wind.
In the morning Gilbert cooked the last of the birds Henrick had shot down, and they ate a small breakfast, before continuing down the winding path leading out of the mountains. There were no clouds above them, but the sun was blocked by the mountain. The day felt warm, nonetheless. After spending eighteen days in the pass, they all felt the thick air fill their lungs as they came back down from the mountainous heights.
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When they finally reached the bottom, they took a short rest. Henrick rode off in search of food, as well as signs of possible danger. The rest sat beneath the trees, listening to the gentle rustling of leaves. The boys played a while, running barefoot in the dirt. Will felt more relief than he could describe. He knew their journey had only just begun, and he could see the strained looks on the faces of the knights, but being out of the mountains was enough for now.
When Henrick returned, he had two squirrels and a rabbit hanging from his horse’s saddle. They all mounted their horses again, and rode on, into the woods. The path they had been on continued to the east, but Maryk insisted the castle was to the north, so they went offroad. The trees were tall and thick, but not so close together that they couldn’t ride through them.
It seemed a nice wood, at least to Will. He had gone hunting with his father and brother many times, in enough woods, and he found these woods calming. The trees looked sturdy, and old. Little sun shone down to the floor, but the trees blocked out the strong winds.
And they could hear animals. The chirping of birds, the rustling of rabbits and squirrels. The occasional distant howl of a wolf.
Will knew there would be other predators nearby. He only hoped there wouldn’t be bears. He had only ever seen a bear in person once, from far away. But he had seen the scars a bear could give a man, even a knight.
The boys were doing much better now that they were out of the mountain. Jon was laughing loudly as Ser Gilbert told him old stories of battles in the woods. Sasha rode further ahead, not wanting Peter to hear those stories just now. The young boy was doing better; his eyes were open, and he was alert. He still wasn’t speaking much, but he ate without fuss, and clung to his sister tightly. He asked her to sing to him again, and she did, filling the old woods with the sweet sound of song. When Henrick came riding out of the trees, they all quieted as they saw the look on his face.
“What is it?” Maryk said, riding forward, and reaching for the sword strapped to his side.
“Riders,” Henrick said, and pointed to the east. “Five of them at least, mayhap more.”
“Knights?” Maryk asked seriously. Men riding through the woods were one thing, knights another.
“I’d reckon no,” Henrick said. “They aren’t armored. Two have bows; they all have swords. They are poachers, like as not.”
“Are they headed this way?” Maryk’s stern demeanor demanded deference from the younger knight. Will admired Ser Maryk, but the tall knight scared him at times.
“They were moving south,” Henrick said. “We might be able to avoid them altogether if we go further south.”
“No.” Maryk shook his head, frowning deeply as he thought. “We’ll continue on to the north. If we’re careful they may not spot us. And quiet,” he added, looking at Sasha. “Apologies, my lady. Your sweet songs will have to wait.”
“Aye, Ser,” Sasha nodded, looking nervous and hugging Peter closely.
“They might have food,” Will said hopefully. “We could barter with them. We don’t know they’re dangerous. And the king’s men couldn’t have gotten in front of us, not through the pass.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Maryk grunted. “We aren’t meeting people on the road. And it doesn’t matter who they are, it matters who we are.”
“Ser Maryk is right,” Sasha agreed fervently. “We must stay hidden until we reach this castle.”
“Even the castle is a danger, my lady,” Maryk said to her. “But meeting strangers in the woods would be madness. No. We must avoid them at all costs. Henrick, keep an eye on them,” he instructed, in the cold, harsh manner of a military commander. Henrick gave a curt nod. “Don’t let them see you. And if they come close to us, give your horn a blow.”
Henrick nodded again, and then turned his horse and galloped off through the woods.
“We need to pick up the pace,” Maryk said to the rest of the group. They began riding again, faster than before. No one was making a sound now, and they all felt the tension that hung amongst them.
“Mother, are the bad men after us again?” Peter asked, looking up at Sasha with wide eyes filled with fear.
“No Peter, we are safe,” Sasha said, cradling him as she rode. She ignored him calling her mother. She knew she would have to correct that behavior sooner or late, but for now she let the boy be. “Our knights will protect us.”
“But they couldn’t protect father,” Peter’s scared voice whined.
“Your father commanded us to protect you, lad,” Gilbert said. “And so we did.” Peter didn’t respond, but he didn’t look comforted. He buried his face in Sasha’s furs and hid from the world. Maryk and Gilbert were riding on either side of Sasha and Will, fencing them in from danger. Will could see the look on Maryk’s face as he stared off into the woods to the east, and it made him nervous.
They rode hard, pushing the tired and hungry horses. They didn’t speak, listening instead to the soft sounds of the woods. It might have been a pleasant ride, except for the looming fear of the nearby riders, and their pursuers they knew to be somewhere behind. Will still didn’t think the riders Henrick had found would be dangerous. No one would know who they were, not on this side of the mountains. But he knew better than to argue with Ser Maryk now. The knight looked positively fearsome as he clutched the hilt of his sword and gazed off into the woods.
When the woods grew too dark for them to continue on, Maryk reluctantly stopped, and they set up a camp. He refused to let them make a fire, saying that the riders could spot it and find them. When Henrick came riding back, Maryk looked concerned, but Henrick looked relieved.
“They are two leagues south of us,” Henrick said to the older knight. “They’ve made their own camp. They don’t seem very smart. They could have killed a dozen rabbits, but they never did. And now they are eating rotten meat. I could smell it.”
“Stupid men are dangerous men,” Maryk said. He shot Will a stern glance, and Will blushed and turned away. “We’ll avoid them. In the morning we’ll ride north, and if we’re lucky, they’ll ride south.”
“Do they have a fire, Ser Henrick?” Will asked, glancing nervously at Maryk as he spoke.
“Aye, that they do,” Henrick nodded. “Not a big one, but enough to keep warm in the night.”
“Mayhap we can have a fire, then,” Will said hopefully, looking to Maryk for answer. “If we can’t see theirs, or smell it, then they won’t see ours. Especially not if they’re stupid.”
“Just because they are stupid doesn’t mean we can be,” Maryk said, scowling at Will. “We’ll sleep without a fire tonight. It will still be warmer than the mountain.”
“But I'm hungry,” Peter said, poking his head out from Sasha’s lap.
“I've gathered some berries,” Henrick said, riding up beside Sasha and handing them to her. “They won’t fill your belly, but they are sweet.”
“Thank you, Ser,” Sasha said, taking the small bag from Henrick with a gracious smile.
“I want meat,” Peter said. Sasha smiled as she brushed his hair out of his eyes. It was good to hear him asking for food again, and speaking up unbidden.
“Perhaps a fire just long enough to cook those rabbits,” Will suggested, pointing to the hares hanging from Henrick’s horse. “Ser Gilbert can cook fast. Can’t you, Ser?”
“Aye, that I could,” Gilbert nodded. They were all looking to Maryk now, and he could tell they all wanted the fire.
“Very well,” Maryk sighed, looking frustrated. “Cook the coneys, and then put it out. Henrick, ride back to their camp and keep an eye on them. I don’t want to be startled in the night.” Henrick nodded his consent. He reached back, and handed the rabbits he had killed to Gilbert, and then rode back into the darkness of the woods.
Will and Jon helped Gilbert start the fire, while Maryk stood watch, and Sasha sat with Peter. It was easy to make a fire now that they were out of the snowy mountains, and soon they could all smell the flesh of the coneys as Gilbert roasted them. He seasoned them with his salt, and some forest herbs he had picked earlier in the day. When the meat was cooked, Gilbert stomped out the fire, and they ate in the dark. Peter was still sniffling from the cold, but he ate his fill.
Before they went to sleep, Henrick returned again, and reported that the riders had all gone to sleep as well. Henrick volunteered to take the night watch, but Maryk insisted that he do it. Henrick didn’t protest, and they were all sleeping in the dirt before long.
In the morning they made another small fire, knowing it was much safer in the light of day. They finished off the hares, and the berries, and then packed up and rode north. Henrick rode off by himself again, to scout and hunt. Maryk still seemed tense, but Gilbert had relaxed, and that made Will and Sasha feel better.
“How far to Lord Bellard’s castle, Ser?” Sasha asked Maryk as they rode through the dense woods.
“Two or three days would be my guess, my lady,” Maryk replied. “We may come across Lord Bellard’s men before that however.”
“Do you think they’ll treat with us?” Will asked. He still had hope that they might be able to stay at this castle for more than just a day. He knew they were in danger, but he thought Maryk was being too paranoid.
“They’ll wish to take us to Lord Bellard, I am sure,” Maryk said. “Once we enter his lands, we’ll have no choice but to go to his castle and treat with him. We can still turn back, and ride on without notice.”
“You said Lord Bellard is a gracious host,” Will said.
“I said he is a gracious host to those he wishes to host,” Maryk corrected. “Pray that he meets us well.”
“Why wouldn’t he?” Will asked. He had never been turned away from a castle before. He couldn’t imagine why any lord would want to turn away weary travelers, especially if they had gold to barter with.
“A hundred reasons,” Maryk said grimly. “Not the least of which being the recent events at the capital.”
“Do you think they know about that already?” Will asked doubtfully. “No one passed us in the mountains.”
“There are more ways to carry a message than on a horse,” Maryk said. “Ravens will have flown. I have no doubt that word of what’s happened has come this far. And much farther, like as not. We must assume everyone knows, boy.” Will looked down at his horse. He didn’t like when Ser Maryk made him feel like a fool. He wasn’t used to being chastised, and Ser Maryk did it often.
“Have you any idea where Lord Bellard’s loyalties lie, Ser?” Sasha asked.
“Last I knew his loyalties lay with the old king,” Maryk said. “But that was three years ago. Much has changed since then.”
“Mayhap he knew our uncle,” Will said hopefully, and then turned red as Maryk glared at him.
“You will not speak a word about your uncle, boy,” Maryk growled. “Nor your father. You are my squire, nothing more. A commoner’s son, given to me as a payment. And your sister is a tavern wench come to look after the young ones.”
“And the young ones?” Sasha asked. “What reason have three knights to be riding with two small boys?” Maryk frowned for a moment as he thought that over. It was a good point. There weren’t many reasons they should have two small boys with them.
“Jon is Gilbert’s bastard son,” Maryk said. “And Peter...” He stopped midsentence, still thinking it over.
“Perhaps Peter should be the son of a lord,” Sasha suggested. “Taken as a hostage.”
“Too dangerous,” Maryk said.
“He won’t be able to play the part of a commoner,” Sasha said. “Not yet. The rest of us can play our parts as needs we must, but Peter will slip up. We must give him a part he can play, Ser.” Maryk frowned even deeper, but Will could tell that he agreed with what Sasha had said. After a moment, Maryk nodded briskly, and Sasha nodded back, making it official.
“You hear that, lad,” Gilbert said to Jon, who was sitting in front of him on the great, black warhorse. “You're mine now.”
“I always knew my father was a brave knight,” Jon said, and Gilbert bellowed loud, hearty laughter.
They rode for most of the day before Henrick finally returned. He had watched the riders go south, until they were far enough not to be a problem. On his ride back, he had killed another three rabbits, and a fox. That night they had a bigger, warmer fire, and a more filling meal than any of them had eaten in weeks. Sasha sang to Peter, and they all listened. Henrick kept the watch that night, letting Maryk sleep for the first time in three days.