After their experience with the soothsayer, they didn’t explore any more of the ruins they came across. Not that they found many, but there were a few. Only one looked like the Shielder Outpost they had visited and they decided to give that one a wide birth.
They had been traveling for nearly two weeks and Galafar insisted that they were only a few days away from the fort now. Aeolwyn wasn’t sure what he felt about that. He was sad, nervous, and excited all at the same time.
They stopped for a rest in a small grotto near a creek. Galafar had gathered some nuts and Aeolwyn had managed to catch a rabbit. Such was their fare for most of the trip. Aeolwyn wasn’t sure how much weight he had lost, but it was enough that Reiva commented on it.
Galafar was unusually silent most of the trip, and Aeolwyn didn’t blame him. The elf had let strong imprints on each of them, even Aeolwyn, though he chose not to hear the predictions. He kept wondering who was following me?
Of the four of them Egnever seemed to be the least affected. He said that he was trying to reframe his whole existence to make himself believe that he was exactly where he was supposed to be. He said that since he couldn’t change his situation, the best thing to do was to change his perception of it.
Aeolwyn brought some of the cooked rabbit and nuts to Reiva when they stopped and sat down beside her. He wasn’t sure why, but the pressing question of who hired her seemed less important now. The question that nagged his brain was about the Spires.
“What are the Spires?” he asked. He handed her a share of the rabbit and nuts. She took them from him and began eating as best she could with her hands manacled together. She dropped some of the meat, but he was there to pick it up and hand it back to her.
“My secrets are my own,” she said. “The soothsayer said so.”
“True,” Aeolwyn said. “But he meant that he wouldn’t reveal secrets that weren’t his. You are under no such obligation.”
She said nothing. She continued to eat as though he weren’t there watching her. Even now, manacled, with a mouthful of food and grease running down her chin, she was alluring. He shook himself out of it. He couldn’t be attracted to an assassin. What would his mother say?
“Clearly it’s the place you’re from,” he said. “And that’s not Gavinholm Isle. That belongs to the Fenns, and they’re our enemy. Sir Jom made me study it. There is no place known as the Spires.”
She just stared at him, chewing. There was a fire in her eyes that he didn’t remember seeing before. Was it anger because he caught her in a lie?
“I’m not telling you,” she said, gesturing for him to sit. “But I will give you this: It’s not the name of a place. It’s not even the nickname of a place. It’s a building, and it’s profoundly beautiful.”
“Fair enough,” he answered. That was at least something to go on. He was bound to find someone who knew what the Spires were. Even if she didn’t, they would tell him all that he needed to know about it.
He knew now that she had lied about being from Gavinholm Isle. Why did she have reason to lie about her origin? Did it have something to do with her cousin and whatever ring Xabat had been talking about?
Of course, that was irrelevant to the task at hand. He still needed to know who sent her, and though it was less important to him now, General Alaric would want to know and would be willing to torture her to get it out of her.
He couldn’t let that happen. Could he invoke his right as Prince of the Realm to override an interrogation? He wasn’t sure. It had been made very clear that as far as the general was concerned, he was just like any other soldier. But the reality of that matter was that he wasn’t just like any other soldier. He was a prince, and that would always carry power with it.
“I wish you would trust me,” she said as he sat down. “These manacles are painful.”
“I want to,” Aeolwyn said, “but you were sent to kill me, and keep reminding me every chance you get.”
She shrugged. “I know you’re trying to get me to trust you enough to tell you who sent me, but trust works both ways.”
“If you want that trust, you’re going to have to earn it,” Egnever said, stuffing a bit of rabbit thigh into his mouth.
She leaned forward. “You want trust?” she asked. “Ok. Even with these manacles on, I could have killed all three of you a hundred times over.”
She stood up and held the manacles in front of her. She twisted her hands around against each other, shook her wrists and the manacles fell off. They landed on the grass with a soft thump. She stepped forward and placed her hands on her hips, glaring at Egnever.
The mage stood, hands already glowing as he prepared a spell. Aeolwyn got between both of them before they did something one of them would regret. Only one of them because the other would probably be dead.
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Something whooshed past Aeolwyn and landed in Egnever’s shoulder with a thunk. He screamed out and fell to the ground, writhing in pain. Before Aeolwyn could run to his friend, a dozen battle cries sounded and men plunged into their grotto.
Aeolwyn’s sword was in his hand before he even realized it. Reiva was at his side, another pair of daggers in her hand. Where had she gotten those? Galafar was too far away to have tossed them to her. She must have had another set hidden that Galafar didn’t find. Crafty woman.
Two pair of men went straight for Aeolwyn. They were dressed in the same outfits the bandits that attacked the army camp had been wearing. Some of the outfits bore bloodstains already, though the men didn’t appear to be injured.
In a flash, Reiva went to work. While Aeolwyn took on the first pair of bandits, she catapulted over them and attacked the second pair. Her daggers flashed as she swung at them. He lost sight of her after that.
The first bandit made a sloppy overhand chop that Aeolwyn was able to duck under before plunging his blade into the man’s chest. The second one slashed at his chest while Aeolwyn was still pulling the sword out of the first victim. He blocked the attack with his left-hand dagger.
The force of the blow felt like it shattered his arm. He was holding the dagger in a reverse grip, and though the knife stopped his arm from being chopped off, it did nothing to protect his arm from the force of the slash.
He twisted away from the attack and swung his sword low at his attacker’s feet. The bandit leapt over his blade and countered with a slash of his own, aimed at Aeolwyn’s head. Aeolwyn knelt down while gracefully transitioning his blade into an overhead parry.
His opponent’s blade shattered when it made contact with Aeolwyn’s, spraying shards of it at his face. Aeolwyn rolled along the grass but felt a sharp stab of pain in his shoulder where a fragment of the blade found a home.
In the middle of his roll, he slashed up at his enemy, striking him between the legs. The man crumpled to the floor like a dropped sack of wheat. Before Aeolwyn could finish the man off, a third bandit was already on top of him.
Aeolwyn ducked his attack and rolled to his feet, keeping his sword out in front of him in a defensive position. Like Reiva, his opponent was armed with a pair of sharp daggers. Shock filled him as he recognized his attacker. There was no way he wouldn’t know that beaked nose and smarmy expression.
“You’re from the Star Children,” he said. “You’re Child Fraius!”
Child Fraius grinned with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I am glad you recognize me. Now you can tell the gods who it was who killed you.”
Fraius attacked with the speed of a lunging snake, his two blades whirling. Aeolwyn’s sword and dagger were no match for the flashing blades of his opponent. He could do nothing but give ground to the onslaught.
“I must admit boy, you have some skill. Most would be dead already.”
Aeolwyn said nothing. He knew a taunt when he heard one. Sir Jom had taught him all about them, as well as various other ways to off-balance his opponent. Also, he wasn’t quick enough to think of a witty reply, being too busy trying not to be killed.
Then, like a flash of night, Reiva arrived, landing in front of him and slashing at Fraius. Taken by surprise, the Star Child didn’t have a defense prepared. His daggers were cut from his hands and then Reiva buried a dagger in his belly. So much for the idea that the Star Children hired her.
“No one kills him but me,” she said, twisting the dagger. It appeared to get stuck on a bone inside the man, and before she could wrench it free, two other bandits attacked. She kicked Aeolwyn back and turned to face the two new attackers.
He could see Galafar, next to Egnever, engaged with three of the bandits. Another two already lay on the ground, one with his face smashed from his friend’s buckler. Egnever, safely behind Galafar was struggling to get to his feet. He had already snapped the arrow shaft off, leaving the remains of it in his chest. The bandits were getting the better of Galafar, and he was in danger.
He raced to Galafar’s side, slashing at the back of one of the bandits who collapsed to the ground. The two bandits scattered back, unsure of what had happened.
“To me!” Aeolwyn shouted. They needed to fight together. They would have a better chance against the bandits that way. If they were separated, they were much easier to kill.
Reiva disengaged the remaining bandits and cartwheeled her way to Aeolwyn’s side. Likewise, the bandits retreated and reinforced their own numbers. Looking around, the surviving bandits realized how bad they underestimated their opponents, and now that the element of surprise was gone, they had lost their advantage.
Egnever had gotten to his feet, and his glowing hands indicated that he was preparing a spell. His face was alight with rage as he clasped his two hands together. A red ball of flame began to appear between his palms as he drew them apart.
The bandits panicked. They turned and ran, picking up Fraius as they fled. Aeolwyn started to pursue them, but Reiva and Galafar grabbed both his arms.
“Don’t,” Galafar said. “They may have reinforcements.”
The fireball that Egnever had created fizzled out and he collapsed back to the ground. Aeolwyn sheathed his weapons and went to his side. He and Reiva helped him up, and the group fled the grotto in the opposite direction the bandits went.
“All this time you’ve been able to get out of the manacles?” Aeolwyn asked as they made for the small copse of trees that was the only concealment they could find.
She nodded. They both struggled carrying Egnever. He was the tallest in the party, and outweighed both of them. Galafar had to come relieve Aeolwyn of the burden.
“Why didn’t you escape?” Aeolwyn asked.
“I wanted you to trust me,” she replied.
“So you can kill me?”
“Someday…” she trailed off as they made the copse of trees. They had left their packs and remaining provisions behind. It was going to be a difficult journey. At least Egnever was still breathing.
***
As soon as he was able, Fraius shoved the men away so he could walk on his own two feet. They had retreated to their camp where one of the men was able to staunch the bleeding in his stomach. He refused to pull the dagger out though, saying the danger of bleeding out was too great.
Damned that woman for interfering! Not only had she took him by surprise, but she had killed his one good mage. The only one with healing ability. Now they would have to make their way to the nearest village and find a healer, if any were available. They had passed one a few days ago. They couldn’t explore it since their prey had given it a wide berth, but it was their only chance. He only prayed that whatever healer may live there would have enough skill to stop him from dying.
He regretted that his best hope now was to make their way to the Fortress of Heaven in Branson’s Fork. Lord Longinus would not be keen on his failure to kill Aeolwyn, and he fully intended to complete his task. He just needed time to heal and plan his next steps. It didn’t matter if it took two weeks or two years. The young prince would die at his hands.