“What are we doing here?” Asked Loes, the sea breeze blowing at the Princess’ hair, ruining hours of careful brushing; which was probably more time, than her handmaiden had ever spent on preparing hers, Elsanne thought. The Princess felt the moisture on her skin and smelled the sea, the wind blowing strangely hot, as if to chase away the chill of fall. They’d left Riverdor with the weather worsening; in fact it’d rained for part of their slow journey and Elsanne expected the coast to be colder.
Elsanne looked around her, using a hand to keep her long white hair off her face. Big weather-beaten boulders sprouted out the golden sand. She touched one; it was warm, where it faced the sea, cold on the other side.
Some details now made more sense.
“This is the coast of Regia,” She murmured to no one. Her eyes searched for the Prince, spotted him talking with his men, some distance from their carriage. Eight Cofol riders were his entourage, a boisterous bunch. Alas, several days into their journey, Elsanne hadn’t talked with anyone, but the Prince. She had tried to apprehend, what they were discussing, but couldn’t make out the words clearly, as her knowledge of their language wasn’t fluent enough.
I never thought, I’ll need it, she thought, a bitter smile on her face.
The Princess bit her lower lip, to prevent tears from flowing. Breaking down in front of them, wouldn’t help her cause. Then again, if she did, it probably wouldn’t hurt; but it felt more… decent, not to show such weakness from the beginning.
Uher, please show me, this is but a dream. A horrible, awful dream. I’ll even take a nightmare, just wake me up. Show me a sign.
“There are riders coming,” Loes yelled, face flushed and hair a right mess, pointing with a shaking hand, the other busy trying to keep the aforementioned unruly muddle, under control. Elsanne followed the hand with her eyes, the Cofols all coming alive before them. “They don’t look like Cofol to me,” Loes, for some reason seeing better than her, noticed.
A group of around ten mounted men or women, still half-covered in dust clouds, was approaching their camp. They had kept the carriage next to one of the bigger boulders sprouting out the sand, their horses tied on short pegs on the other, creating a ∏-shape, the boulder side facing the sea for protection from the wind. Radin’s men gathered at the impromptu ‘entrance’ to their camp looking nervous, as they’d realized as well that the oncoming men wore Issirian armor.
Or parts of it, Elsanne observed, approaching the backs of the group of men in front of her, with careful steps, heeled boots not helping on the shifty sandy terrain. The leading cavalryman, a broad shouldered Issir, fully armoured, with darksteel plate covering his chest and sturdy chainmail his arms that reached his hips, pulled at the reins and stopped his horse, less than ten meters from Prince Radin’s guards.
A great mustache dominated his upper mouth, flowing both sides of a long white beard, braided into an elaborate ponytail. He curled his lip seeing them gathered nervously in wait and glanced back towards his companions, a crimson colored sash around his waist showing clear.
Elsanne gulped nervously, feeling a tang of worry in her chest.
Surely, she thought. It can’t be.
“Seems, we found us some Cofols lads,” The man said loud enough to be heard.
“Whatever you may think, you found… stranger,” Prince Radin had walked out of their group to address him. “You’re mistaken. I suggest, we all go about our merry ways.”
The newcomer, turned to see who was talking and with a grunt, climbed down his horse and stretched his arms out wide, before answering. His men followed his example, the youngest looking gathering the reins and pulling the horses back, into a separate group.
The Prince’s patience run out.
“All right then, dear Sirs. I urge—”
“Heard ye before,” The man said cutting him short. “Also heard a story, along wit half the realm, about how a Cofol won himself the Princess of Kaltha,” His men, Elsanne counted nine of them, laughed hard at that. “Tis a great one. Aye, couple of nobles maimed in it as well. A king’s son slain. Now the famed Sonny Lindberg, heard the tale also, thought on it… another way. Do the High King a favor sort of speaking; help alleviate some of… the misunderstandings betwixt ‘em. Earn himself a pardon in the process. Most of his lads likened the idea.”
In the Crimson Band was his meaning.
Elsanne closed her eyes, the identity of the men clear. “My Prince, listen to me; don’t get involved.” She said breathlessly. Her fate changed with the dawn of each day it seemed, but perhaps this turn might lead to a better outcome.
Radin narrowed his eyes surprised. “Dear, I’m in the middle of it.”
Uh.
“I’m afraid he is,” The man continued, after checking her out, in a very lewd manner. “See the trouble here is that Sonny bought your ruse, sent the Crimson Band outside Scaldingport, to cut you off. I didn’t.”
“Who might you be?” Radin asked, eyeing his men readying their weapons, the atmosphere turning tense.
“Kobus Bakema. A mere lieutenant, in the ranks.” The man said solemnly, his eyes never leaving her face. Elsanne realized, it wasn’t lust lieutenant Kobus’ eyes held and gasped horrified. “Used to be married, I did. King’s men killed my wife ye see, hanged her up in Pascor for my crimes.”
The Prince’s swollen face showed his disdain. “I’m sorry for your loss,” He offered.
Kobus nodded, his eyes somewhat clouded, staring at his boots now.
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“Pleaded for me kids, she did. The Mayor of the city, messaged the King even,” He said miserably.
Elsanne felt her heart race in her chest. She was doomed, the gods have decided.
“What did the king say?” Prince Radin asked, a glance at her pale face and trembling hands, giving him the answer, before the man’s reply.
“Together,” The Prince whispered, so only she could listen.
His words oddly ironic.
“King Antoon decreed,” Kobus continued, missing their small exchange, steel in his voice now. “A traitor’s offspring is a traitor unto himself and ordered ‘em both hang, beside their mother.”
He’d drawn his sword out at that, his men following his example.
“I have nothing against you,” Kobus admitted to the Prince’s men, “Give me the Eikenaar spawn and I’m satisfied.”
“You can’t have the Prince’s wife,” One of the Cofol’s replied crossly. “It is an absurd demand.”
Kobus raised his brows surprised, his eyes wandering behind them, to the sound of horses approaching. Elsanne turned her head nervously, her mind dark and confused and watched three more riders appearing behind their carriage. Wearing the same crimson sash. They had advanced following the shoreline unseen, until the very last moment.
“Had my scouts following ye all along,” Kobus Bakema explained, trying to appear reasonable. “I advise you, to reconsider. The numbers are not in your favor.”
“Defend the Prince!” One of the guards bellowed and spears tips were lowered towards the rebels. Outlaws and rebels to the crown. Lowest of the low, criminal scum. I would hang them all, if I could, her brother always said, Elsanne thought, cursing him for putting her in this position.
“Hein, Walter. Charge them,” Kobus ordered and moving with lethal finality run through a Cofol that stepped in front of Prince Radin to save him.
The man died with a sob, blood painting the blade, as Elsanne recoiled trying to get away from the sudden violence. She stumbled, hearing Loes screams, seeing out the corner of her eye the last part of a rider’s charge onto the backs of the Prince’s men. Two of them went down, one skewered on his own spear, broken part exploding out of his nappe, the other quickly cut down by the sword of an onrushing Issirian that caught him under the armpit.
She’d never thought blood could be so garishly red.
Elsanne’s hands sunk in the soft sand. One of the Cofols, his spear tip bloodied, helped her up and then abruptly shoved her away from the rider that turned on her. She screamed, everything turning a blur, eyes stinging and the huge horse missed her hip by a hair, the gleaming axe’s edge stopped by the guard’s spear, before opening her skull.
The Princess rolled on the wet silt, mire a mix of blood and sand fouling her clothes and hair. Ears ringing, she came to a stop, missing a sleeve. The rider was down, his entrails spilled all over the saddle of his horse that galloped away, leaving a bloody trail behind.
Another Cofol had died, his head not even four meters from where she had ended up, the rest of his body lost somewhere in the bloody scuffle that raged now ferociously. Elsanne counted four Crimson Band members not including the rider that were also down. That left five of them, including the youth, attacking the remaining four Cofol guards and Prince Radin.
The Prince had taken another wound in his right arm, the cut bleeding down his hand, as he was duking it out with a vicious Kobus. The Cofols were mostly using spears and since the fight had started and continued in very close quarters, it hindered their efforts. Some had switched to their long cavalry blades, but again their attention was on saving the Prince and it was costing them in blood.
Another went down, making the advantage overwhelming, for a moment. The Cofol that’d saved her from the sole rider that had charged on Kobus orders, stabbed a thin mail clad Issir fighter through the eye dropping him, making it even.
Elsanne got up on shaking legs and looked around for Loes, just as Radin charged the leader of the outlaws pushing him back, catching his retreating foot at the shin maiming him. Loes, at least some smart bones on her, had hid beneath the carriage, watching with ogling terrified eyes the battle. Having spotted her, the Princess made to call on the handmaiden to stay where she was, when her eyes rested on the two remaining riders that had appeared last, casually observing the fight from a distance.
They hadn’t moved at all, Elsanne thought stunned.
One of them, as if sensing her scrutiny, turned a narrow face her way. White skin, large silver colored eyes, half-hidden under a standard nasal conical helm. His mouth pressed once, as if undecided, whether she was worth the bother.
It was strange to think that, Elsanne decided. Even stranger they stayed away.
“HELL ARE YE DOING?” Kobus bellowed, probably wondering the same thing, she thought. Another one of his men had fallen and what had looked unlikely at the start, now it seemed possible.
Then Radin, who’d over extended to get to the leader, got a flail on his midriff and went down, shifting the momentum again. Two of his men immediately run to cover and pull the unresponsive Prince away, the others left facing a barely walking, but leering Kobus and three of his men.
“Hah,” The man snarled, pleasure replacing anger. “That’s it. Give it up lads. Tis over.”
Elsanne closed her eyes, despair returning tenfold. Her knees buckled and she went down on them, the fortunately soft sand saving her from injury. She was to die unloved and short of days in the middle of nowhere, forcefully wed, but a maiden, like a cattle.
A voice, spoken in common with an artistry, not expected in the midst of a bloody scuffle, forced her out of her stupor.
“You’ve arrived at a crossroads gentlemen. Choose wisely. Surrender and live. Or die.”
----------------------------------------
“The hells are ye talkin’ about?” Kobus yelled, eyes gawking when his ‘scout’ removed his helm and threw it on the ground. It landed with a plop and bounced once before stopping, in front of the leader of the brigands.
“Selussa,” The narrow faced man said calmly. “Kill the kid.”
Elsanne gasped in shock seeing the Issir youth, bolt sticking out of his neck, collapse on his face. The rest of Kobus’ men recoiled with curses and one of them still having his shield, lifted it slowly to cover his torso and neck.
“What is this?” Kobus, face flushed above his elaborate beard and doubly mad, glowered. “You’ll betray the Band?”
“You are confused,” The stranger replied. “And in shock. I’ve never joined,” He paused and seeing the need for more explanation, he added evenly. “This armor, I took from your man. I’m afraid, he’s dead. You see unfortunately, your man was a criminal.”
Kobus spat down and glanced at his shaken companions.
“Changes naught. We can still take ‘em,” Not everyone seemed to agree.
As a matter of fact most didn’t, but were afraid to speak up.
The stranger sighed, seeing it dragging.
“Selussa,” He said simply.
The next moment Kobus was down on his back, a bolt sticking out of his right eye.
His wife and children left unavenged.