The morning found a vigorous return of sounds last night dampened by the dark. Back from some foreign refuge the birds sang all the fiercer, the branches and leaves rustled their own low rhythms far overhead. It was as though the world itself had regained its innocence with a vengeance after a long feverish nightmare. Though well aware of dangers that may be still lurking, the fresh quality in the air heartened Cordelia and the siblings, urging them to resume what had been an anxious journey under the sea of trees.
Whether it was for the simple curious salve or innate powers of knights, Esme’s pace now belied the injuries under her armors. Sometimes it seemed as though she was making an effort to bear with sharp pains. But she could walk now, and did walk briskly, in a way unexpected of one who had been gravely wounded the day before. On the contrary, for all that she had been the least wounded and punished in last night’s battle, Cordelia was the weariest in body and spirit. It had seemed impossible the night before, but this morning her back ached the more and her mind twice troubled. It was a marvel she went without complaints all the way till the trees thinned. And when the forest ended and vast fields and low hills rolled before them, she dropped and gasped like someone who almost drowned.
Yet even as she sat there enjoying the well-earned rest, Derrick gently urged her to press on, so they may leave the treacherous shadow of the forest behind as soon as could. Her body was like to collapse, and she was too out of breath to even complain, but also she knew for a fact what the siblings feared by experience and instinct. That even now the enemy may be at hand there was no doubt. And so up she went, drawing on some reserve of strength she had not known was there.
It was another small eternity till the sun was high and the forest was put behind. For their rest, a large rock was picked for shelter from the winds raging about and eyes that may be staring out from the forest. Not that Cordelia could truly care anymore, not for dangers or beasts. Each breath stabbed at her sides, even as she limped the last few steps to drop against the rock. Her every bone ached. Nor to preserve her dignity would she rise to procure her own lunch from the pack, but leaving the siblings to the task. All she wanted was to sit against the rock with her legs sprawling just so, and take a long, long rest. And so she did.
The air had become warmer, and Cordelia slowly recovered strength enough to appreciate the view. The sun was making its journey in the opposite direction of theirs, and so they had been headed east. But this had little bearing on Cordelia, who did not know where all the towns and provinces in the lands were placed. And from all sides of the forest, plains and low hills stretched uninterrupted, without aught landmarks to place one’s eyes but some lone trees and rare rocks. The faded fey road stole betwixt, rounding hills and hiding in the grass, betraying no secret of its ultimate destination. As she stared out listlessly at this vista, Cordelia thought it was pleasant enough.
And in many ways, the patch of sunlight near her feet was looking far more real than the nightmare dream last night. And it recalled in her something nostalgic of a lifetime ago, of almost like warmth and sunlight, where she had laid as depleted of energy to go on. Never a hale child, even a short hike to the low hills had been all it took to leave her flushed with exhaustion. But back then there had been no soul around to mind her undignified sprawling in the grass, and so she had, spreading herself just so under the sun. The both of them had, by each other’s side. And in a voice as breeze that was not winded in the slightest way, that girl had chattered on ceaselessly of faraway legends little concerned them who were foolish mortals, but of these same hills and woods that supposedly once the piping fauns had roamed, that by an unpredictable stroll to unfamiliar parts, one may yet chance upon a nymph in idyll.
Cordelia had liked to pretend such things were true, that indeed within the small birds and shy woodland creatures were the intelligent minds of playful gods. And the strong winds were no mere careless, heartless and thoughtless things but ancient souls swift on their quest for their King on high; who still now and then abandon the godly duties for those lovely daughters of the earth, to then bear them away to some strange romance of girlish daydreams.
And then when Cordelia chewed on the exotic meal provided by the siblings, tasting the texture modern processed food had not, she wondered how much of her old fancies were true in this world. Sure enough, some mythologies in her world had been quite dark, where more often than not mortals had fallen victim to the whims of careless gods. And the events thus far had attested to this dark side. But could it not be that even the beautiful fantasies may be as real as the ugly ones?
Cordelia shook her head, estranged even by the tiniest of hopes had wormed into her thought. All for some no more relevant memories. Seeing is believing. And what else, other than death and lies, that she had seen and done in this world? She could not be so carefree as a certain someone. That pure, carefree Esme was talking quite animatedly to her brother about some places down the village and town that she would fain visit. Derrick’s manner as he entertained his sister belied his usual knightly grumpiness. The conversation then took an unexpected turn, for Esme turned to her quite excitedly.
“We will be going straight for the town without stopping at the villages,” Esme informed, knowing Cordelia wasn’t listening. “It will be a long way yet, but we have enough supply to make the trip.”
“It should be safer behind strong walls,” Derrick explained. “It’s a duty as well to inform the knight-lord garrisoned there of the strange number of fiends in the forest.”
“Is that one the Sir Kamaric you told me?” Cordelia asked, feeling somewhat stirred by the topic. “The one who may find employment for me in his castle?”
“Aye. But to tell the truth, I am not known in these parts. I cannot warrant he will have you in his castle.”
“If he’s a knight of any worth, he should,” Esme said. “What knight would shut his door against a young girl in need, whose family bandits slaughtered in his very domain? And then almost killed again by a horde of feys that he neglected?”
“He may yet have his circumstances. ‘Tis not for us to judge others so.”
“Is not an oath sworn when one is knighted, Derrick?” Esme raised a brow. “Did you speak of this and that circumstances also when you uttered that oath?”
“As reasonable as ever, Esme,” Derrick said.
At this point, Cordelia’s mind drifted off. Strange to her how Esme could be so excited for a mere trip to town when only last night she had neared so close to death. Even now, the enemy may be at hand, and yet the girl was talking about something stupid as pins and needles she would love to buy in the town’s market. It irritated her somewhat. And when Cordelia thought of how much she would be able to push herself for the rest of the day, she knew that it would not be fast enough if the dark things came again.
Yet her fear in the end proved worthless. The World Serpent’s bluff seemed to have effectively delayed the enemy’s attack. For the next days they pressed on across plains and fields in peace, avoiding even farmhouses along the way. Instead camps were made behind boulders or at the base of a slope. Derrick was conversative with fires, and lit little but to warm their chilled bones before sleep. Their meals were just as cold and their rests short. And even then, she suspected all the hardships of which had been reduced somewhat in sympathy for her lacking fitness. Most likely the siblings wouldn’t have stopped so often without her.
Nevertheless, when they discerned the castle-town’s walls from a distance after two days and nights, it had been an unexpectedly peaceful journey. And by then Cordelia was looking forward to a night behind these walls with an excitement to rival that of the excited Esme’s.
She did not know what she had expected from a real castle, having not seen one in person in her old world. But drawing from her limited experience with such ancient structures, she thought it was even more “castle” than the castles in her mind or movies she had seen. A large thing, no doubt, without fancy towers plastered white or dreamy balconies where princesses stood gazing at stars. Its thick walls and stern keep were the most pronounced features, striking fear in the heart of attackers even from afar, but promising safe shelter to travelers in peace. A deep moat prevented foot access to the walls. Even as she peered from the edge, some children were frolicking down there, bathing or daring those above to take a dip in the cold water. From the road, a stone bridge reached halfway across this moat, where a drawbridge took up the rest of the way to a formidable gatehouse. Those who walked across the path formed by these bridges would expose themselves to the flanking circular towers and come under the scrutiny of dozens of arrow slits. But beyond all this, the main road led peacefully uphill to the keep, where eight towers linked by strong ramparts jagged the overall structure’s outlines. And thus stood the castle-town Argenton at the heart of the Knight-marquess Kamaric’s domain.
It was afternoon and the last of the late sunrays caught on helmeted heads and tips of spear behind the gatehouse’s parapet, reflecting on the main road where peasants finishing the last of their post-harvest work were converging for the gate. Among them and under the long shadows of piled-high hayricks, the siblings and Cordelia trudged along with tired steps after long days on the road, dirty and ragged as any rare wayfarers coming to this corner of the country to trade for necessities before winter shut up passages. Still, Derrick’s full plate singled him out among the commoners. And as she walked with her face cast low, more by tiredness than aught shyness, Cordelia could still feel steady gazes from those around affixed on her person.
Two armed guards stood a little out of the way beside the gate. One was leaning on his spear, watching as the other rolled dice with a peasant when they approached.
“Hail, sir,” the standing one said idly. “Where are you headed so well protected?”
“A knight with certain tidings for your lord’s ear, man,” Derrick said. “Is Sir Kamaric in town?”
The guard squinted at him and then the girls, smirking. “Pardon me for not knowing you knight, sir. Your horse must have fallen to some misfortune, indeed, and your country quite queer for one to be squired by dainty maidens.”
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“I have no horse, and here is my sister and a woman I recently rescued from fey creatures.”
“Of course, good quest, that one, sir. That’s what’s so good about knights, always some nice maidens about to steal from villains.” The guard smiled pleasantly. From what Cordelia could read of him, he didn’t seem to mean trouble, not any more than someone with too much time on his hands could provide. The three may proceed in peace yet. And she wished they would, for the man’s eyes were beginning to study her in unpleasant ways. “Well, as it happens,” the guard said, “My gracious lord is not in town. Busy making his rounds of the villages, see.”
“‘Tis the season for taxes, eh?” Esme remarked. “I trust your lord busies himself year-round for it.”
“Your sister is not well mannered, sir, and is fool enough to invite a rough teaching. Or is she that you stole from dragons and wizards? Not, I think, the other’s more the damsel. A nice one, that, really.” His eyes leered.
“You--!” Esme began.
“You are man enough to pardon a child’s talk, man,” Derrick overrode his sister, “Know you when Sir Kamaric will be back?”
“He won’t be for days, and even then, best prepare to fight your way up the keep, sir. For he’s known to dwell with his wife, fine one, that, and the children; weeks, even, ere he’s out for the peasants’ becks and calls.”
“I thank you, man,” Derrick said and dragged Esme away before she could drag a quarrel out of the guard.
“I was not going to fight him,” she grumbled once they were behind the walls.
“He had good cause to think us peasants. You quarrel like one.”
“Better than suffering a scoundrel. I don’t know how you bear it, Cordelia.”
“Bear what?” Cordelia started.
“The scoundrel’s wandering eyes. I would have shown him the back of my glove, I would, that is, if I had one. I read about this lady once...”
“Let us find an inn first,” Derrick grumbled. “Cordelia is near to drop.”
“Aren’t you a gentleman.”
“You’re a pest today, sister.”
It was true Cordelia had little more on her mind than a warm bed right now, even if it would be just a straw pallet. The nagging fear of demons had now mostly subsided and been conquered by tiredness, but even as she became aware of this, there seemed born in its place something else just as unpleasant, a strange and alien uneasiness. What it was, she could not tell, her brain barely functioning. As they proceeded to turn aside from the main street, asking for loggings, her heartbeats hastened. And before long, she realized it for fear of a strange place: for the first time she had entered into an unknown culture, a civilization mayhap hostile against strangers. This was different from finding herself in the wilderness, which could be disregarded simply as a temporary stop. This town and all its unfamiliar people might very well prove to be her permanent home, and she had no idea what to think about it.
Scant enough was her knowledge of history to place the exact equivalent in her old world of this place. The houses had a Saxon feel to them, antique as in certain period movies of a very rude age. The majority had thatched roofs supported by strong timbers, but also some with sturdier masonry like the one they had found in the forest. Rarely did her eyes find a building with more than two stories. Yet a civil place to be sure, with shops and stands and endless sources of noise, warm lights from every window. At that time of the day, folks were returning from beyond the walls, children and dogs filling the niches and alleys between houses, and so the streets were thronged with people. Yet all this peacefulness unnerved her for all its strangeness, and after a while, she cast her gaze timidly to the earth she trod, almost determined to block out everything that was not her feet or Esme’s back. It reminded her of her first time moving to the city from the country in her past life. And she did not like it.
Eventually, the siblings found an inn. Although a rather shabby one, it proved an impressive improvement to the pathetic beddings she had used since coming to this world. The fee paid, they ascended to the second floor, and parted ways, Esme and Cordelia going to their shared room.
In the span of a few days living in pain and aches and camping unsheltered, Cordelia’s standards had plummeted miserably. Now she beheld the basin of cold water, the somewhat soft bed, and the promised meal of cold soup and hard bread as some unattainable luxury.
With a sigh she dropped first to the bed, however, for the chief of civilized comfort, exhausted beyond words. Her eyes shut, she felt the world spinning round and round. The sound of Esme’s undressing was like coming from another realm. And slowly she would have drifted into sleep, carried off by the delightful softness pressing gently against her back, the much-coveted security of four slim walls, but Esme was bent on dinner. And so with one last round of grumbles, she rose and dragged her feet down the common.
The patrons had gathered around the only table in the room, a long and much-stained affair, charred in places. Nor was there the quantity of her first dinner in the siblings’ shack. But the soup was hot, somewhat, and at any rate she was still too tired to complain. Nor would she, eating on others’ charity. Vaguely and darkly, she wondered if working by herself, even such a filling meal would be a luxury in the coming days.
Derrick seemed apologetic. “We haven’t much money. We traded mostly for goods with the villagers, see, and little use for minted silver there. And who knows when the castle’s master shall be back,” he added.
“Don’t worry,” Cordelia said softly, a tad awkwardly. “This is more than I could hope for. I’m but tired and worried, you know, about the future.”
“We all do, missus,” an old patron on her side said good-humoredly. A bedraggled fellow, traveler as the rest of the patrons, and sitting quite close to him was a woman just as aged. “It is a miserable time.”
“Is it?” Cordelia asked innocently.
“Always is,” his wife, so she presumed, said, “I can’t recall a good thing you’ve ever said about the times, dear.”
“It’s been bad for a long time, dear. That’s why.”
“Good sir,” Derrick said, “Have you tidings around these parts? We journey from a far country, knowing only that the lord of this town is a just knight, but not much else.” Now without his armor, the knight seemed little more than a good-natured man, if somewhat less than unassuming in his ragged garb. There was a soft quality to his voice as he regarded the elder.
“Aye. Sir Kamaric’s a good man as man can find these days. But there be things even a good man and a good knight cannot do, lad. Saw you bandits on the road?”
“We came across carriages plundered and men killed, sir. But never faced any.”
“Then I tell you ‘twas no bandits. No bandits around here. Not a one to be found these days.”
“Did the knight best them all, sir?” Esme asked with doubt.
“As well ask whether he raked all the last fall’s leaves, lass. Nay, he did his part, a little too well and then not well enough. They’re all gone now, not for fear, mind, but fled to the Boggarts.”
“Boggarts, sir?” Derrick asked.
“So they call themselves, as many talks of them as there are fellows from the next counties over,” he nodded down the table, “Hired thugs and cut-throats lending their services to lordlings too occupied to collect taxes themselves; they who on mercenary ground plunder not hapless travelers in the night but village elders in the light of day.”
“I would assume the villagers can’t tell the difference,” Esme remarked.
“A bunch of no good, lass,” the old woman said, “unmannered and foul - of all the least you may say of knights and better lords.”
“I suppose Sir Kamaric is out to check them then,” Derrick said, “If indeed this unruly band is hired by the gentry, then even they should scruple from a confrontation with a knight’s warband. He may be back shortly.”
It was, as far as Cordelia was concerned, a good thing to hear favorable words said of her potential employer. He did not sound like an unloved tyrant, at least. And if indeed he commanded the respect thought of him, then she should be somewhat safe behind his walls, far from the feys bent on her murder.
After dinner and before bed, she confessed this reason of relief to Esme.
“There’s no safer place in this region, to be sure,” Esme said, following her to their shared bed. “But feys hardly ever roam near populated places anyway. Are you that worried?”
“Of course.” Cordelia stared at the ceiling, lids half closed. “I’m not a fighter like you and your brother, Esme. Worries and caution are my only weapons against monsters.”
“I can’t imagine...” Esme never finished the sentence. Thinking she had already fallen asleep, Cordelia turned, but the girl was staring.
“Imagine what?”
“What it’s like to be powerless.”
“Not easy.”
“It’s just...” Esme seemed embarrassed by what she had perceived as own impertinence, “You must have been so afraid. And here I have not been very considerate of the.. incident with your household.”
“It’s enough that you think about it at all,” Cordelia said half-heartedly. “It’s for the future that I fear. And the present, I guess. I am helpless, no mistake. It’s closing my eyes and hearing those fey wolves even now prowling beyond these thin walls. No cause to hide it. I lack the strength to defend myself.”
The look of pity on Esme’s face was hardly bearable.
“Well,” Cordelia said, hiding her embarrassment, “is it really true that feys can’t scale the town walls? Cannot some of them fly or leap high over them? I don’t think such guards at the gate can check something like what we faced that night.”
“It was an abnormal number of them, aye,” Esme mused, “Derrick said as much, and he’s a seasoned knight. But castles like these are fortified with more than just walls, you know. And with fortresses as long-standing as this one, the enchantments at work can be quite potent.”
“What if,” Cordelia hesitated, “what if, they sneaked past the guards and the barriers in disguise, along with the common folk.”
“Yeah,” Esme frowned, “Tales are told of feys who tricked humans into friendship and infiltrated communities. But even then, there wouldn’t be so many of them, you know.”
The girl turned away, looking at the ceiling now. “Of course, if you are afraid, you can just stay with us, then no such fey would even come near you! A mere hypothetical case, of course. I know you want to live on your own. It’s your choice, really.” The girl finished abruptly.
Cordelia could not help but smile. It faded quickly. “Let us be hypothetical then,” she said, “suppose they are here, having stolen into this community one by one, and even now there may be dozens or even hundreds of them here living among us. Then whoever of us is safe?”
Esme laughed light-heartedly. “Oh, Cordelia, I would have hugged you if you weren’t so fretful about it. Plague yourself not with such silly fears. You’re only scaring yourself.”
“Right,” she smiled wryly, and grew even more apprehensive. Too hasty she had been to feel safe behind these civilized walls. The threats of feys and einherjar might only have shifted their nature and hiding place. “Let us to sleep. Take whatever good night we can still have.”
She feared there wouldn’t be so many of them in days to come.