“I’ve mapped a path through Borswald,” said Osgar, indicating with a gloved hand the forest that stood behind him on the western ridge. “We’ll come around from the west, and the trees will provide plenty of cover until we reach Silver Lake.” The morning sun was beginning to fade to a pale yellow as it rose slowly over the Vellows, but the tree line beyond remained shrouded in darkness, the fog taking longer to lift amid the dense foliage.
“That is all very well,” replied the Empress, stroking her roan on the neck without turning to look in the direction that Osgar indicated, “but we shall not be riding through Borswald. We shall take the Vellows.” Osgar, who at some forty years was the oldest among them and had served under Emperor Lothar, looked at the Empress in a kind of bewilderment.
“Your Majesty,” he said with all the patience of a man who was accustomed to reasoning with the unreasonable, “while it is true that the Vellows are more direct, it is safer by far to go through the wood. Even here, it is too dangerous to ride out in the open.”
“Then we had better ride quickly,” the Empress said with a smile. Mouse could see the tension beginning to seize the guardsman’s countenance as he shifted in his saddle. He was trying to maintain his forbearance, but his patience with the Empress was beginning to wear thin.
“It will take no more than six hours to travel by Borswald, Majesty,” he explained evenly. “We shall arrive well before the sun even thinks of setting.” Six more hours in the saddle was far too long, thought Mouse, but better to arrive sore and miserable than not to arrive at all. Though she had every inclination to get to Silver Lake and off the back of a horse in as short as time as possible, even Mouse was forced to agree that the Empress’s insistence upon riding out upon open ground for all the world to see was nothing short of foolish.
“I understand your protestations, and I admire your vigilance, Osgar,” replied the Empress, pulling a piece of Peticru’s blue hair from her cloak and letting it float to the ground. “Nonetheless, we will be taking the Vellows,” and before the guardsman could answer, “That is my word.” Osgar’s former equanimity seemed at last to erode, his voice now rising in frustration.
“I cannot allow that, Majesty,” he pronounced. “As the head of your guard, it is my sworn duty to—”
“Then I am sorry that I must inform you that you are no longer the head of my guard,” the Empress interrupted before he could finish. The placating smile had faded from her face, replaced with an expression of obstinance. Osgar, shocked by the Empress’s words, opened his mouth to speak but could seem to find no words.
“Ulrich,” the Empress said, turning away from the older guard to the young one at her right, “I congratulate upon your new rank as head of the royal guard. Now, take us to Silver Lake— by way of the Vellows, if you please.”
Ulrich was the youngest of all the guard present. His hair was the color of honey, the loose curls tucked behind his ears, and as Mouse judged, was a good deal shy of twenty-five years. He tended to be the most reserved among the men, wasting no words and only rising to forcefulness as necessary, and though he normally held himself with a kind of quiet confidence that many admired, he now seemed lost for recourse, looking uncertainly between the Empress and the old head of guard.
“This is foolishness!” bellowed Osgar indignantly, driving his mount a few steps forward.
“Thank you, Osgar, for your many years of service,” the Empress cut in, pulling her gloves over her slender fingers. “You are hereby relieved of duty and will no longer serve in the royal guard. You may accompany us for the remainder of the journey, but upon our return, I will have your sword and your crest.” Mouse looked around at the other men of the guard, the shocked expressions on their faces mirroring her own. Certainly the Empress could not mean what she said. Osgar had been with the guard for more than twenty years, since before the Empress had even been born. How could she discard him the moment he opposed her?
“Majesty, I implore you to see reason,” cried Osgar. But the Empress merely took up her reins and turned from him, starting down the path that led out across the Vellows. Mouse did not like the direction things were heading, and it was clear from the furrowed brows of the guardsmen that she was not the only one. But what were they to do? They could not disobey a direct order of the Empress.
“As you were, Ulrich,” the Empress called as she continued up the path. The young guardsman hesitated for a moment, before finally seeming to steel himself and spurring his chestnut gelding ahead. Through their apparent discontent apparent, the rest of the guard soon followed, until only Osgar remained, staring with contempt at the backs of those in front of him. Mouse wondered what he would do, but she could not afford to wait back, and so went on with the rest. She felt very sorry for Osgar. He did not deserve to be spoken to in the way the Empress had addressed him, nor did he deserve to be relieved of his position for performing his duty. And though Mouse knew that the Empress could be stubborn, she hoped that she would soon realize the error of her judgement and make amends with the old head of the guard.
It was not long before the sun was shining brightly overhead, and without the cover of the trees, it felt all the more oppressive beating down upon their backs. The path upon which Ulrich led them weaved low among the Vellows, tucking in through the folds so that they might be little seen from any distance. But to remain unseen entirely would be impossible. As they continued through the low rolling hills, every minute that passed was one that left them more exposed; the closer they drew to Silver Lake, the smaller the hills rose and the flatter the land became. It was only a matter of time until the ground opened up and offered no protection whatsoever to the travelers. The air was warm and still, and as the land began to flatten, grew thick with quiet tension.
It was a mistake to take the Vellows, Mouse could not help but think. Though it allowed them to pass straight up from the south, they were so entirely exposed that they would stand no chance of surviving any kind of attack. She could sense that the others in the party were thinking the same, so quiet were they that Mouse felt almost as if she should hold her breath to keep from making too much noise. Just a little farther, she told herself as they started across the last stretch of open plain, and they would be safe within the walls of Silver Lake. But no sooner had she glimpsed the castle rising in the distance than something went sailing past her head, whistling in her ear as it flew by. She turned to look behind her but saw nothing, and it was at that same moment that she heard the cry of a horse. She turned back around just in time to see the sorrel in front of her rise up on its two hind legs, sending its rider to the ground. She had barely noticed the arrow lodged in the creature’s haunch before it took off across the meadow ahead.
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All the party had stirred at once, the guards yelling as the horses stamped furiously at the ground and tossed their heads. Mouse felt her heart begin to pound in her chest before she could even fully understand what was happening, and though Passavant shook at his reins, he held his ground did not bolt. Mouse could feel the terror seeping into her faster and deeper as she looked about in fear and confusion, but in that moment, she felt that she had never loved a horse so much.
A pair of riders had already been dispatched in the direction from which the arrow had been sent, and Mouse found herself frozen, staring down at a second arrow that stood poking out of the grass. She looked up to see Ulrich, who, taking Passavant’s bridle in his hand, held the gelding still only long enough to shout, “Run, Mouse! For god’s sake, run, and do not stop until you have reached the walls!” But Mouse could only sit frozen in terror, until Ulrich struck her horse’s haunch with his bow, sending the swift grey gelding across the meadow at a gallop. Mouse leaned forward across the horse’s neck, her fingers wrapped tightly in his mane and her legs clinging to his body with every ounce of strength she had. She could not see what lay in front of her, nor could she bring herself to look up; she was at the mercy of her mount entirely, and all she knew was that she would be glad to live to tell of it. Tears streamed down her face as the horse ran faster, his hoofbeats thundering upon the ground, shaking her with every strike. She could not let go. Terrified as she was, she was determined to stay atop the galloping beast, and she found herself clinging to one thought alone, one creed—that she would not die this day, here among the mallows.
At last, the horse began to slow, and Mouse, though trembling with fear and effort, tried to push herself upright. But her body resisted the act, as if frozen in place, and she found she could not untangle her hands from the horse’s ashy mane. Without knowing what was happening, Mouse felt herself suddenly being pulled from the saddle. For a moment, she resisted, until she realized that one of the guardsmen had her about the waist and was bearing her toward an opening in a high stone wall. Mouse did not know how long she could keep her own feet under her, but she knew she must not stop until she was safely within the wall. Her legs quaked, and she could feel the salt of dried tears on her face, but she would not allow herself to fall to the ground until she was given leave to do so.
Once safely through the wall, Mouse felt herself being wrapped within a cloak and set her gently upon the ground. “Are you hurt?” one of the guardsmen asked her, inspecting her face. Mouse shook her head. She shook terribly, her body cold and numb, but she was not injured, at least not that she could tell. She was within the bailey, she could see, and glad for it. She was glad for the stone wall behind her back and the grass beneath her and the cloak wrapped about her. She was glad for the guard who had pulled her from her horse and carried her inside the curtain wall, and for all the rest who came in now, one by one.
Little by little, her heartbeat began to slow and the feeling began to return to her limbs as she watched the guard gather and talk among themselves. Finally, the last came in, appearing through the wall with a prisoner in tow. The man’s hands were bound, but he showed no signs of wishing to flee, and instead threw himself on the ground at Ulrich’s feet.
“Forgive me, my lord!” he wailed. “Only I did not know you, else I would’ve never—” he shook his head and clasped his hands tightly together. “Oh, I beg of you, do not kill me, my lord!” he cried.
“I am no lord,” answered Ulrich. “Now, tell me who you are and why you have chosen to assail the royal guard this day.”
“No!” the man cried. “Not the royal guard, my lord, strangers!”
“Indeed, you have loosed three arrows upon Her Majesty’s royal guard,” replied Ulrich to the man who cowered before him on the grass. “Now is your chance to explain your design in doing so, and I suggest that you avail yourself of the opportunity, for it is like to be the only one that you get.” The man began his violent wails anew, and Mouse found that could not help but feel sorry for him, even if he had, as Ulrich had explained, put them all in danger.
“I only meant to scare you off, my lord,” he pleaded. “I swear it! To protect the keep, that and nothing more.”
The young head of the guard looked down at the man.
“Why?” he demanded.
“I never did know it was you, my lord,” the man cried, wringing his hands repentantly. “I thought you was one of the others, I swear it!”
“What others?” Ulrich asked.
“One of those strange men that came riding through from the north, my lord,” the man answered, “I never saw the likes before, and I did not know—” The man dropped his elbows into the grass in a pitiful gesture. “I only wanted to protect the keep, to do my own part,” he cried.
Ulrich stood quiet for a moment. Mouse wondered if she might know what he was going through his mind. Perhaps, she thought, he was thinking how easily this might all have been avoided. Had the Empress not been so insistent upon riding out without any notice, had she deigned to make the appropriate preparations or given any kind of warning to those at Silver Lake, things might have gone very differently.
“Who are you?” Ulrich asked the man.
“I’m nobody but nobody, my lord,” the man whimpered. “Nobody but nobody.” He lifted his eyes pitifully to Ulrich. “Nevertheless, I pray you’ll spare me, my lord, for I never did know it was you.”
“I will remind you not to call me ‘my lord,’” said Ulrich. “Now, tell me more about these strange men you saw.”
The man’s brow lightened at this, as he realized, perhaps, that he may yet be believed.
“Came riding in from the north two days ago, my lord,” he said. “Stopped at the other side of the lake. Have everyone in the castle up in arms and all the men ‘round the northern side. See how empty the parapets stand this side, my lord?” Mouse and the rest of the guard looked up. The man was right. The wall was sparsely held this side
“Why were you in the wood to the south if these strange men came from the north?”
“Suppose one of those men went creeping off and came ‘round the back,” the man replied. “Suppose they hatched some plan to come up from behind and take the castle by surprise, my lord.” Ulrich looked up, as if patience could be found in the clouds.
“For the last time,” he said, “I am no lord. How many men are there?” The man looked about.
“I say about as many as you are here, my lord,” he replied. “A dozen. Maybe less. But they’re not Teppish, that much is for certain. And who can say what they’ve come for?”
It was clear that these strangers the man spoke of were none other than the Dietric of Foilund and his men. No one else would dare to ride so close to the keep without an invitation, and certainly no one else could so readily be identified as hailing from somewhere outside of the continent of Tepp. If it was a siege, their numbers would have been far greater, yet they had made no attempt to conceal themselves. It could only be that they waited for the Empress to send one of her own men, lest any approach upon the castle be misconstrued by the country guards as an act of aggression, as evidenced by the ravings of the man who knelt before them now.
With the cause of the attack accounted for, the man was taken away, while the rest of the party made their way to the keep. Mouse had not seen the Empress within the bailey and knew that she must have been conveyed indoors immediately, while she herself was left to recover upon the grass. She ascended the steps slowly, her nerves frayed and body weak, as she held fast to one of the guardsmen’s arms, who slowed reluctantly to match her pace. Perhaps, Mouse thought, as he left her at the door of the castle to climb the next set of stairs on her own, it was not such a terrible thing for a man to not be Teppish.