The Maid's War (Kingfountain 0.5)

“I am lifting! I thought we’d only be carrying one corpse back down the mountain in the wagon, not this lot too.”

Through his lashes, Alensson saw that he had been positioned right near the brazier. All the torches were out, but there were still some smoldering coals left in it. Genette had kept him by the fire while she had willingly frozen to death. She’d positioned him so that his back and neck were to the brazier, his face toward her so that she could look at him in her final moments. His heart ached for her, for his wife, for the child he’d not see until his own death. How different things could have been had Chatriyon chosen better things. How different indeed.

As they lugged him away, he cast a final look at her stiff body, watching as another soldier unlocked the chains. Her mouth had frozen into a smile of victory.





CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Black Knight





Ankarette and Alensson were hidden in a hollowed-out trunk near a gurgling stream. They had rested there for several hours and continued their hushed conversation until the crack of wood nearby had alerted her. There was something dreadfully wrong. Ankarette’s senses were taut with danger. It was not possible that their pursuers could have found them this quickly. The riders who had accosted their wagon had been the outriders of a larger force bent on hunting them down. They had scarcely stolen the mens’ horses and tunics when the sound of approaching soldiers reached them. Ankarette had sent the two Espion into the woods on the left and urged them to return with reinforcements. Then she and the duke had taken the strongest of the beasts and ridden on ahead, only to find a picket of stakes blocking the road. At first Ankarette had thought the pickets were a trap, but then she’d realized these were the border defenders of Occitania, here to alert King Lewis of troop movements from his rival on the throne in Kingfountain.

She and the old duke had plunged into the woods on the right side of the road in the hopes of losing their pursuers. Then they’d ditched the horses to provide a false trail and found refuge in the hollow trunk. But their pursuers hadn’t taken the bait.

All her ruses were failing.

The forest was thick, full of moss-covered trees, and furrowed with deep ravines and gulches. There were plenty of places to hide, but the poisoner knew she could not stay still.

“I don’t understand how they keep on our trail,” Ankarette said in a low voice, deciding it was better to flee before they were surrounded. The two departed the trunk and hiked side by side eastward, trying to reach a break in the woods. She knew Eredur’s army was nearby. If she could only reach it, they would be protected, and she knew her king would value the prize she had brought.

The duke was breathing heavy in short order. He was much older than her, but still had the strength for a long march. “It’s happened to me before,” he said darkly. “Every time I’ve risen against the king, he knew where to find me. His spies are everywhere.”

She shook her head. “This is more than spycraft, Alensson. I can sense Fountain magic at work. It’s subtle and I cannot determine the source . . . but it’s coming from behind us. He sent someone who is Fountain-blessed to hunt you. What I don’t understand is why they let us get this far. Why didn’t they stop us from leaving the city?”

“I don’t understand it either, Ankarette.” He dodged a low-hanging branch and then lifted it so she wouldn’t have to duck. He had not lost his courteous manners.

There was a call coming from the woods on the left. It could have been a bird, but she recognized it as a human sound. The soldiers were trying to flank them, to encircle them.

“This way,” she said, tugging at his sleeve, leading him toward a ravine with a trickling stream at the bottom that joined the one they had left. “There was a river that leads to the king’s camp,” she said. “I remember seeing it before I left. I think we are drawing near. This brook may feed into it.”

“Which river was it?” Alensson asked. “I can tell you.”

“It was the Sienna River. The one that leads to Pree. The army is encamped on the other side of Montreux Bridge.”

A wise grin passed over Alensson’s face.

“You know that bridge?”

“Of course I know that bridge,” he said with a chuckle. “That’s where Chatriyon murdered his rival, the King of Brugia. Is that were Lewis and Eredur plan to meet?”

“It is. I’ve not heard this story.”

“It was famous back in its day. But it’s long been forgotten. Are we going down into the ravine?”

“I think we should,” Ankarette said.

He shook his head. “This will lead to the Sienna. It would be wise for us to follow it for a while, but let’s not go down there just yet. Once we’re there, it’ll be easier for them to trap us. Let’s save it for a final hope. Agreed?”

“Agreed. As long as we’re heading in the right direction.”

“We are . . . I know this wood. Let me tell you this story quickly. It may save your king’s life. I’ll keep my voice low.”

“Thank you,” she answered, keeping alert for noise of their pursuers. She could hear them in the woods. They weren’t troubling to keep their silence. The occasional spurt of voices or cracking of limbs announced their presence. She was determined to bring Alensson to safety. Perhaps their hunter had a special gift from the Fountain that enabled him to pursue someone?

“Montreux Bridge is just ahead,” Alensson said, pointing. “The Sienna is too difficult for an army to cross. The bridge is notoriously stone and quite defensible. What’s not well known is that a secret trapdoor was built into the flooring on the other side of the bridge. The side your king is encamped on.”

“A trapdoor? To what purpose?”

“Murder, of course. Before a negotiation, the king’s men will erect two timber cages on the bridge, and the two sides will meet in the cages. The doors are locked. The arrangement ensures only a few men on each side are involved in the negotiation and the cages prevent them from attacking each other. But there is the trapdoor. At the king’s signal, the soldiers hidden under the bridge come through the trapdoor and kill those inside the cage on the enemy’s side. That’s what happened to the King of Brugia when he came to negotiate peace with Chatriyon. This was before Chatriyon was crowned king at Ranz. This deception was the reason Brugia sided with Ceredigion during the troubles that followed. Chatriyon’s father often relied on murder and duplicity too. He bribed several lords to betray the King of Ceredigion before Azinkeep. Unfortunately, they were discovered and sent over the falls. The best way to win a battle is to prevent one.”