Don't Forget to Dream (37 page)

Leaning back in his saddle and drawing rein Callum came to a halt before the well, leaping from his horse as Sunset stopped beside him, breathing only a little harder than the warhorse. Grinning broadly Callum passed in front of her with a kindly pat on her muzzle and then her neck as he approached Rhyla
’
s stirrup without taking his eyes from hers.

“
That was great, I felt like a child again, threading along the lane like that,
”
Callum said as he reached up. Rhyla
’
s laughter mirrored his as she placed
her hands on his shoulders, his strong hands easily encircling her waist as he lifted her down.

“
She is a wonderful mare, so effortless and smooth. I have never ridden such as her,
”
she said briefly flicking her eyes
to the mare but returning to Callum
’
s face just as quickly.
She
could not keep her eyes from him if the hunting lodge had caught alight.

“
It is a simple matter to make her available whenever you wish,
”
Callum said completely absorbed in her smile.
“
She is still young and from one of my favourite
breeds.
Father
gave me her sire only a few years ago.
”

Rhyla started momentarily at the casualness of his tone and at the words themselves, such a simple thing for him to say and honestly mean, but more than she could ever have expected to hear. Looking into his eyes she saw the s
imple sincerity in his statement.
She
also realised how close he was. His blue eyes mere inches from her. The full
curve of his lips was
so close she could feel his breath on her cheek
. S
he became more than acutely aware of his hands still about her waist. The feel of his broad shoulders, so strong and warm beneath her hands was just as she remembered from all those months ago in the Great Hall when she had first laid her hands upon him. She slowly slid them lower over his chest, aware of the deep breaths he drew while trying to convince herself she would push away from him any moment, but truthfully knowing she would wait until he removed his hands from her waist first.

Her expectation was shattered as Callum took her by surprise and slipped his hands further around her waist, across her back and drew her closer to him. He held her gently but so securely she knew she could not escape even if she had ever wanted to. The jumbled, confused and argumentative thoughts of the previous weeks were strangely absent in his embrace.
A calmness
had enveloped her despite the racing of her heart.

Regardless of all her vows and determination to stay away from him Rhyla could not pull away as his lips tenderly rested against hers. Lightness and
tentativeness slowly p
rogressed to firm determination.
His arms around
her,
crushed
her against his chest but she did not fight him. All rational thought evaded her as she sank deeper into the feel of him. She didn
’
t think of the guardsmen not far behind them or the inevitable pain at returning to the reality that they would never have a future together. Instead she absorbed every second with him, the feel of him, of his lips and the euphoria he created in her.

His sudden scream as he crushed her against Sunset
’
s flank left her shocked and gasping. The broad grin she had delighted in had become an agonised grimace. He held himself upright against the dancing mare with his right hand, his left fell limply from her waist. Her initial confusion
was instantly overwhelmed by terror
as she caught sight of the arrow shaft protruding from his left shoulder. From the corner of her eye she saw three men step out from the shadows of the forest on the far side of the clea
ring. Following her line of sight, Callum spun and in one smooth motion drew the blade that was hanging by his side.
Cradling his injured arm against his body she couldn
’
t have loved him anymore, at any time, than she did right
at that moment.
Callum was prepared to put his life on the line to save this simple girl, the one love of his life.
Turning to Sunset she quickly drew the light blade hidden beneath the saddle.

Rhyla glanced arou
nd the clearing but could only see the three
assailants closing in on them, thankful that the only quiver she could see hung blessedly empty. She strained to listen for mor
e horses approaching
but was only greeted by the pounding of her own heart and the laboured breaths of her Prince beside her. Callum did not wast
e his breath in questioning her.
He
quickly took in her grip and stance with the blade, nodded once and returned his a
ttention to the approaching men.
There
would be time to explain later. Rhyla worked to calm her breath. Hours of practice had steadied her stance and blade but nothing had prepared her for the fear, the terror, of facing arme
d men intent on taking her life, h
ers and that of the man she loved.

The bowmen dropped his bow and drew his blade. He was surpr
isingly youthful, tall and lean.
A
me
ss of curly blonde hair framed
a wickedly grinning
face. His companions were noticeably older, one with a touch
of grey in his long brown hair.
He
had the height of his young companion but with heavy shoulders
,
he carried his broad blade with ease. The third had the look of a farmer in his loose rough home spun wool. His face
was
deeply weathered and his shoulders slumped forward on his stout frame. But a farmer or not he too looked to know one end of the blade from the other. His face
was
calmly calculating as they closed the distance on their targets. Th
eir matching swaggers announced
their confidence even as it confirmed their la
ck of formal blade training.
Even
a simple street tou
gh could be deadly with a blade and
more unpredictable
as well.

The gap
inevitably closed
between the five combatants. There was
no hint of the approaching guardsmen arriving for a timely rescue. Rhyla carefully circled her blade, loosening her white knuckled grip on the hilt as Master Thomas and her father had taught her. You would not have the agility, the speed and precision required to fight off a larger opponent. Her balance was even and her centre of gravity low. But she had never faced a real fight, an opponent happy to take her
life.

The tall, lean young man stepped wide of his companions to circle to Callum
’
s open right side while the greying man closed to his left. The stout farmer maintained a steady pace on Rhyla, his expression one of calmly approaching a job of work.

Focusing on her stout opponent Rhyla
’
s heart was pounding but fear was no long
er threatening to overwhelm her;
anger and determination had pushed it aside. The youngest attacker lunged at Callum first, his blade easily deflected before Callum swung to catch his second attacker in a high parry that left the assailant open to a downward slash to the body before Callum was forced to dance back to catch another swinging blade from the young assailant.

Rhyla caught a flash of crimson as the greying man stumbled backwards. She had no time to spare as her own battle flared. The farmer
,
turned bandit had closed on her more slowly than his companions, perhaps expecting her to
drop the blade and run. Instead she drew deep breaths and focused
on her opponents every movement.
He
was stiff in the left hip and slow but had strength she could not stand against for long.  A brief twitch to the corner of his mouth said what little he t
hought of his designated target.
He
would not take pleasure in killing her but he would easily defeat her. His first lunge with a sweeping arc was to slice her t
hroat, if
not take her head completely, but Rhyla easily glided back to avoid his blade. He
was left open and overbalanced
as she nimbly stepped in and opened a gash to his right shoulder. Briefly stunned
,
his eyes flickered to the rent in his sleeve and to the growing red stain as he regained his stance. Rhyla belatedly realised she had missed an opp
ortunity to press her advantage.
Did
she have the fortitude to do more than wound the man? She had little time to think on it further as he paced forward again, his blade flashing in a straight thrust she easily deflected. Her agility and speed of blade kept her free of his heavy strikes but Rhyla know she couldn
’
t keep going for long.

Callum traded
blows with the young assailant.
The older man collapsed
from blood loss thanks to the Princes first strike. A lunge followed by a fained upper thrust was deftly turned, as
the defensive parry was raised
into a low sweeping strike to open a long gash across the young man's thigh. Th
e wound was too great to ignore.
The
young man dropped to his knees grasping his lacerated flesh. Callum did not hesitate in plunging his blade into his opponent
’
s heart, mercifully speeding the inevitable.

Rhyla
’
s back was pressed against the well yet she managed to deflect the blade of the stout farmer to her left as she stepped to her right. Not all her m
ovements had been so successful. S
everal small wounds now covered her body, slowing her, bringing her closer to exhaustion with every minute that passed. Yet instead of continuing to press her he took two steps back and turned slightly away from her, repositioning
himself
. A brief glance at Callum standing over his two felled at
tackers explained his movements. H
e was too experienced to leave his back open to attack. Callum stepped around the
crumpled form of the tall young man, his face pale a
nd
the arrow still protruding
from his shoulder
had soaked him in his own blood.

Seeing him step to her aid Rhyla
’
s wavering confidence strengthened. She found a new determination, Callum n
eeded her.
He
couldn
’
t continue
much longer with that degree of blood loss. The stout farmer adjusted his focus to the true aim of their assault. Their mission was clearly to take Callum
’
s life
. Callum
’
s life had to be taken
in revenge for their defeats and the hangings
that had taken
place back at the Palace. Rhyla was just a brief hindrance.

The remaining attacker readied his stance as Callum slowly approached, his pallor a clear sign he was nearly beaten and his open blade inadequately guarding his useless left arm. Taking the invitation
,
the heavy set man lunged with a swinging attack to Callum
’
s exposed side.
But Callum was too well trained. H
e had goaded the man into just such an attack. The Prince spun on his right leg causing the man to miss and stumble just as Callum brought his blade around to strike deeply across the centre of
his back. He collapsed groaning.
If
he lived it was unlikely he would ever walk again.

Callum dropped his blade as he sank to his knees, cradling his left arm closely. Rhyla rushed to his side, her blade clattering to the ground beside his as she carefully wrapped her arms around him. She clung to him
to help upright.
He buried his head into her neck, panting heavily
. Together they remained this was for several painful minutes.
Rhyla gently stroked his hair, her breath calming
,
long
before his even started to slow down.
His face was so cold against the heat she wa
s radiating after such a battle, but he was alive;
they were both alive and that was all she could repeat over and over in her mind.

“
We
’
re alive! Oh Callum, can you look at me?
”
she asked gently raising his chin so she could look in his eyes. He was even paler n
ow the surge of battle was over.
He
had lost a lot of blood.

“
Where did you learn to handle a blade?
”
he asked smiling weakly as he met her gaze.
“
I shall have to thank them?
”