Knights Magi (Book 4) (57 page)

“Hey!” she protested, as she brought the big pot of tea to the table, “Maramor has withstood dozens of attacks!”

“Bandits,” grunted one of the men, “or petty feuds between lordlings.  Not a proper siege.  It’ll keep out a pissed-off knight, mayhap, but a troll?  Not bloody likely!”

“It has so!” she insisted.  “It’s as good as a proper castle!”

“It’s our outpost,” Rondal said, firmly, “and regardless of what it was, we are living in it as it is.  And as it is . . . it leaves much to be desired.  As soon as the cavalry contingent arrives, we’re going to start scouting the nearby manors.  Which ones would those be, milady?”

“Huh?  Oh!” Arsella said, startled.  “You should probably start with Ketral Manor, and then Farune Manor.  They’re both nearby, I believe,” she said.  She didn’t sound too sure.  “But there’s no telling what’s happening there, is there?”

“That’s why we’re going,” Rondal reminded her.  “To find out.”

She was quiet, after that, but he could tell she was not happy with the idea of exploration.  He supposed he could see her perspective: after weeks on her own, having a bunch of soldiers around with sharp swords made her feel safe.  Thinking about them running off and attracting trouble back to her manor probably worried her. 

That afternoon she joined him again as he finished the dike-and-ditch around the manor wall.  She brought lunch again, and she also brought her arbalest. 

“I want you to teach me to shoot properly,” she proposed.  “I got lucky with that one goblin.  Next time I don’t want to depend on luck.”

“It’s not very ladylike,” he teased.

“Either is a soup pot,” she retorted.  “Are you going to teach me, milord?”

So he taught her.  The mechanism was a bit different than the ones he’d used at Relan Cor, and far more complex than the crossbows made in the Wilderlands.  It was also more ornate, to the point where it barely looked like a tool of war.  But the bow was strong, the catch was easy to operate, and teaching her to use the slide windlass wasn‘t difficult.  In two hours she was hitting the target – her wimple, laid upon a pile of dirt – from thirty paces, reloading and hitting it again within the span of twenty heartbeats.

“You’re very good at this,” he remarked, as she put a third quarrel inside the circle.  “I’m surprised your father never taught you.”

“Sir Hagun felt that such pursuits were better left to his fosterling sons, not his daughters,” she sniffed.  “Needlework, now, that was a craft for a lady!”  She sounded rueful about it.  She was far from the only noblewoman who disliked needlework – it was a common complaint.

“Probably a good thing,” Rondal decided, “with your temperament.”

“My temperament?” she asked, mockingly, as she loaded a fresh quarrel into the slot.  “Whatever do you mean?”  She let fly a little too quickly, and missed the mark . . . by less than an inch.

“You seem to like to act rashly,” he pointed out.

“How so?” she asked, halting her practice and staring at him.

“Well, the decision to leave the evacuation and return to Maramor, for one thing,” he pointed out. 

“Sir Hagun left good people behind!” she protested.  “It wasn’t right that they were here without protection!”

“And you protected them . . . how?” Rondal asked, patiently.  Arsella blushed.

“They should have at least had some representation from House Maramor,” she said, proudly.  “It is the least the family could do after abandoning them like that!”

“Yet your father felt otherwise, and you disobeyed him.”

“I’m alive, aren’t I?” she asked, defensively. 

“And yet the people you came to protect . . .”

“You think I wanted that?” she objected.  “So, I acted rashly.  When I heard that, that thing breaking down the big gates, I ran and hid.  One of my servants, brave girl, insisted on it.  Only . . . there was only room for one,” she said, tearfully.

Rondal felt awful – he had been having a reasonable discussion, he hadn’t meant to invoke such a painful memory.  But something in the way Arsella spoke told him she was desperate to talk about it.

“It was a horrible night,” she said, setting down the bow and sinking to the ground.  Rondal stooped closer to listen.  “They came just after midnight.  They had already burned the village, after taking the few people left there.  There were only a score of us here, then, all that was left.  We thought we were safe.  We thought they’d passed us by.  But we were wrong.

“They howled,” she said, her face streaked with tears.  “A terrible noise, like a . . . a. . .”

“A goblin,” supplied Rondal with a faint smile.  “I’m familiar with the noise.”

“And they chanted.  A few could speak our language.  They called for us to open the gate, even as they started a fire.  Then that troll came, and bashed down the gates instead.  The men, the men fired at it, but it barely noticed them.”

“They’re dumb that way,” agreed Rondal.  “It takes a lot to kill a troll.  Hard to do, even with a crossbow.  Mostly it just pisses them off.”

“This one wasn’t happy,” she agreed.  “But behind it they just . . . swarmed in.  The gurvani.  The men drew swords, and the goblins only had clubs they were using, but they . . . there were just too many,” she whispered.  “That’s when the servant girl insisted I go to my hiding place.  She closed it just as the goblins pushed the manor hall doors open.  I heard them come for her, heard her screaming right outside as they took her.  I heard . . . oh, dear gods, Sir Rondal, I heard her beg for mercy and then she just . . . stopped.”

“Probably fainted, or was knocked unconscious,” Rondal said, weakly.  “We didn’t see much sign of blood.”

“I hope . . . I hope . . .”

“I know,” Rondal said, comfortingly.  “I know that feeling.  You can’t dwell on it, though, or it will eat you alive.  I know,” he repeated, with emphasis.  “Trust me, you can’t . . . wish someone alive again.  Not even with magic.”

“Of course you can’t,” she agreed, absently.  “But it was horrible.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking her hand.  Without realizing it, he was embracing her, and she was sobbing into his neck.  He felt awkward and helpless.  He had no idea what to do.  Rondal decided to just hold her, and let her sob, because he didn’t have any better plan.  He knew Tyndal would – he’d know exactly what to do to appear sophisticated, cocky, and charming.  Rondal felt like a rustic.

As if in response to his thoughts, Tyndal chose that moment to contact him mind-to-mind.  Rondal wasn’t nearly as appreciative of his advice as he thought he’d be.

What?!
Rondal responded to Tyndal’s overture.

What’s wrong?
Tyndal asked, anxiously. 
Are you under attack?

No, just – what do you want?

We’re about a day from you, now.  We just hit that big village you went through.  We didn’t see any sign of gurvani, but I didn’t expect to. 

Oh.  All right.  I guess we’ll get ready for you, then.  Um . . .

What is it?
Tyndal asked.

Um . . . I have a girl on me.

Congratulations!
Tyndal said.  If Rondal didn’t know better, he would have thought his fellow apprentice was being genuine.  That idea disturbed him more than the thought of him being sarcastic. 
What’s the problem?

She’s crying. 

That’s not a problem,
Tyndal assured. 
Hells, that’s great. 

You’re really not helping this situation.

Just kiss her, tell her everything will be okay, and change the subject.  Trust me.

But . . . things aren’t going to be okay,
Rondal said, evenly.

Of course not.  We’re all swimming in the Dead God’s chamberpot, now.  But that’s the last thing she wants to hear. 

So I should lie to her?
Rondal asked, hesitantly.

Well, yes!
Tyndal replied.  Rondal could imagine his eyes rolling. 
Believe it or not it would not be the first time a man has lied to a woman.  Don’t let it worry you.  It’s not an important thing.  You’re just trying to get her to feel better.  And you’re not lying to her, if you want to be technical.  You just have a broader vision of what ‘okay’ is,
he said, philosophically.

But . . . she’s sobbing hysterically now,
Rondal said.
I can feel it on my shoulder.

That’s excellent.  Let her get it out.  That’s all she wants to do for now.  Let her get it out, lie to her, change the subject.

This is really not sounding like the kind of advice Lady Alya would give.

Lady Alya doesn’t know much about courting women,
Tyndal retorted. 
I’m not saying ravish her, you idiot. Just give her a kiss.  A comforting kiss.  Give her a place of stability in a wild and chaotic world.

What if . . . what if she doesn’t want to kiss me?
asked Rondal worriedly as Arsella seemed to break down even further.

Don’t give her the option,
Tyndal recommended. 
Really, just take the matter out of her hands.  It’s a kiss, not a marriage proposal.  If she doesn’t want it, she’ll let you know.

This is really making me uncomfortable,
Rondal said, as he shifted uncomfortably.

It’s kissing,
Tyndal dismissed. 
That’s what it’s supposed to do.  Just . . . get her calmed down.  When I get there, we’re going to have a lot of work to do, and the last thing we need are any distractions.  Hysterically sobbing women count as distractions.

Rondal agreed and ended the contact.  Arsella must have felt the change in his demeanor, or had just reached the end of her mood, and looked up at him, bleary-eyed.

“It’s . . . it’s going to be okay,” Rondal said, awkwardly.

“P-promise?” Arsella asked.

“Yes,” Rondal said, with far more assurance than he felt.  He couldn’t think of any compelling reasons to support his promise, and he started to panick when he imagined her asking him to explain just why everything would be okay. 

So he kissed her.

Much to his surprise, she kissed him back.  It was . . . it was wet, what with her tears, and clumsy.  She had not practiced the art much herself, not nearly as much as Lady Thena had, perhaps less than even he, but she was enthusiastic . . . and then a little desperate.

Be the rock,
he reminded himself as he kissed her, trying to breathe and kiss and think all at the same time. 
Be her point of stability.

“Let’s head back to the hall,” he suggested, when they finally broke apart. He had to change the subject.  “Our reinforcements arrive tomorrow, and we need to get ready for them.”  He gave her one last embrace, and caught one last kiss she insisted upon, and then they walked back to the manor, hand in hand.

I can’t believe that worked!  Be the rock,
he reminded himself again, when he suppressed the urge to grin like a fool when she looked at him. 
Be the rock.

Although, he reflected as he stumbled, being the rock wasn’t hard to imagine at the moment.

*                            *                            *

Everything changed the next day, when at midmorning a warning whistle from the tower announced the arrival of Tyndal’s detachment.

Tyndal was at the head of the column, of course, riding a midnight-black charger and wearing a dashing green mantle over his armor.  Except for the mageblade on his back and the lack of helmet he looked all the world like a handsome knight errant.  That, Rondal discovered all too quickly, was readily apparent to Lady Arsella, too.

“About time you got here,” Rondal said casually as his fellow dismounted.  “I expected you at breakfast.”

“The goblins made us breakfast,” Tyndal retorted.  “A patrol stumbled on us last night and clearly wasn’t expecting to.  Ten of them,” he said, dismissively.  “It was hardly a fight.  As soon as they crossed my wards, I was awake.  Didn’t even disturb the horses,” he said, proudly.

“That’s the first sign of goblin activity we’ve seen,” Rondal said, shaking his head.  “Figures that you’d bring trouble along with you.”

“Bring it?  I dispensed with it,” Tyndal countered.  “None of them will be reporting our whereabouts.  We hid the bodies well.“

“Hopefully they won’t be missed,” Rondal sighed.  “I’d hate to have to leave this place just as we’re getting settled.”

“So show me around this magnificent manor,” Tyndal said, just a shade sarcastically.  “And introduce me to the lady in charge.” As Arsella was near to hand, that wasn’t hard.

But the moment Rondal did so, he regretted it.

Suddenly, Rondal stopped being the focus of Arsella’s attention.  As the Ancients ordered the new men to their billets and led their horses to the abandoned stables, Rondal realized that Lady Arsella could not take her eyes off of his fellow apprentice.  He even tried testing her focus by asking her where the tanning shed was, which elicited a vague and dismissive response.  Arsella was suddenly very formal and polite, and made a show of welcoming Sir Tyndal and his brave troopers to Maramor.