And just in case you might have missed something, this tale can be read from the beginning at "Schwan" in the sidebar at the right.
6 Swords on the Road
The Queen's Own Guard was a mostly ceremonial company. It was made up of retired Guardsmen and Rangers. But Lillian knew them as a company of grizzled veterans, with a lifetime of loyalty to the crown. With the Queen still in mourning, and secluding herself, command had passed to the Princess.
Slythain's spies had reported Karl's departure from the city to him. Slythain was sure that he was carrying an urgent message to Fredrik. He also knew that the Princess had been consulting the physician, and feared the worst. He was penning a hasty message to the Duke when his door was thrown open. Several members of the Queen's Guard entered.
He tried to throw the message into the small fire on the hearth, but was too late. One of the "old men" delivered a cuff to his head that sent him sprawling. Two more jerked him from the floor to his feet. He abandoned any thought of resistance, as he was dragged before Princess Lillian.
There, he was thrown roughly to the floor at her feet.
"Please, Your Highness," he began, but was cut short by another blow to the head which knocked him to the floor again.
Finally, Lillian spoke.
"Is there anything you wish to tell us?"
"This is all a mistake," Your Highness he began, struggling to his knees.
One of the Guardsmen made to strike him again, but the Princess raised her hand and stopped him. She held the singed, half written message in her hand.
"Take this traitor to the deepest dungeon," she said, turning away.
"Please, your Highness," he begged. But another blow knocked him to the floor. This time, the Princess did not interfere.
✠
When he saw the Queen's Guardsmen enter Slythain's chamber, Potten feared the worst. If they had discovered Slythain, he would surely be next. He did not expect Slythain to hold out long under torture; he was not the type. He hastily gathered some things into a bag, and slipped out of the castle.
It wasn't difficult. The Gatekeepers were used to seeing him leave at odd hours on Slythain's errands. He hoped to escape before any alarms were raised.
He strode quickly through the deserted streets to one of the less reputable inns. Here he procured a horse.
At the City Gate, he was stopped by the Guardsmen. As they questioned him, a man was heard approaching at a run.
"By order of the Crown; no one is to leave the city!" he shouted.
But in that brief moment of confusion, Potten spurred his mount past the watchmen, and fled into the night. They stood watching helplessly.
✠
Karl rode on at a brisk trot in the moonlight, skirting the lake. Soon the valley narrowed and he came to the outlet of the lake. Here, the water flowed over a rocky shoal, and descended into a narrow gorge.
The road followed the river into the gorge. On one side was the river, on the other the the bank rose steeply upward, into the forest. From time to time the road crossed over the stream on stone arches. As he neared the falls the river fell away, and the road clung to one side of the gorge, high above.
Above the Great Falls, the road was cut into the side of the cliff. This was the gateway to Midmont. It could be defended by a handful of men against an army if necessary. But in times of peace, it was only a deserted place along a lonely road.
Karl reined in his horse. He had an uneasy feeling. He watched from the shadows under the trees. And then he saw some movement ahead. A man moved into the moonlight. After a moment, Karl could see a horse standing nearby.
It could be a Ranger patrolling the road, but that was unlikely. The horse was too large, more like the type used in the lowlands of Morlana. And there was something about the man's dress that was not right. He seemed to be waiting for something- or someone. Karl was sure it was not himself.
But, he had to pass. He thew back his hood, and adjusted his cloak to make sure he had free movement. He loosened his sword in it's scabbard and was about to move forward, when he suddenly stopped. He heard hoofbeats behind him. His blood ran cold.
There was no place to hide. He had been ready to challenge one man, but two were too many. He was sure that the rider behind him was in league with the one blocking the road. Yet, he had his duty. There was no more time to think about it. In a desperate move, he spurred his horse forward, and drew his sword.
The man in the road was taken completely by surprise. He had been expecting Slythain's messenger, Potten, not an armed rider bearing down on him. He ran to his horse and mounted clumsily. He barely had his own sword in hand when Karl was upon him.
It was a one sided fight. Karl was well trained, and had the advantage of surprise. In less then a minute, the man was on the ground, and his horse had bolted. But it was long enough for Potten to arrive, his own sword already drawn. Karl had barely enough time to turn to face him.
This fight was different. Potten was a decent swordsman, and he was desperate, himself. There was little room for the horses on the narrow road. They were crowded together with barely room to swing their swords. Karl had been cut twice already and now they were locked together, each straining to throw the other down.
Now Potten leaned back and took a swipe at the leg of Karl's horse. It was only a slight cut, but the horse reared up, kicking out with it's hooves. They struck Potten's mount, and it stepped back to keep it's footing. One hoof stepped into air, and the other slipped back amid a shower of loose stones. In what seemed like slow motion, horse and rider slid over the edge, and with a shriek, disappeared into the darkness below.
Karl spoke soothingly to his horse to calm it down. He looked down at the dead man, laying in the road. Now there was no sound other than the roar of the falls below.
He dismounted and examined his horse's wound. Once he was satisfied it was not serious, he searched the dead man. He found nothing, but was satisfied that he was Morlanian.
Karl pushed him over the cliff to join his fellow.
It was early morning, still before dawn, when Karl rode up to the Abby at St. Petersbridge. He pounded on the door until it was opened by a sleepy eyed monk.
"I must see Brother John, of Saint Mary's Abby at Waterton."
"Can't it wait?" grumbled the monk, as he fumbled with the lock.
✠
Elise woke long before dawn. She needed to get back to her work. She got out of the bed carefully, so not to wake Fredrik. She pulled her dress back on over her head, and quietly gathered the things from the table. Before she left, she paused again at the mirror.
But Fredrik was not sleeping. He was watching her from the bed. There was something about her spirit that drew him. He was already making plans, as she closed the door behind her. He was sure she was why he was there.
When Elise got to the kitchen, Anna could tell that something had happened. She had been watching Elise for years, and looking out for her after her mother had died. This was the first time she had seen her smile in a long time. The change was apparent to others as well.
"You must have had quite a night," the cook said.
Elise didn't hear a word.
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