-.-.-

21

Gifts People Send

-.-.-

Lynn winced as a dull aching pain erupted at the back of her head. And the rest of her body as well. She was lying on her side on a hard wooden floor, and darkness surrounded her. She strained her ears but heard nothing. But she did catch a whiff of horse manure and singed hair. The air around her was slightly chilly, as though it might be early morning.

"A hostage!" she whispered to herself, recalling what the old man had been saying before she lost consciousness. So she was a hostage! Excellent! "Now what?" she asked herself, tied up in the dark.

She wriggled her wrists, bound behind her back, but found her arms sore and the skin raw. She tried wiggling her feet, bound tightly together, and found that she could pull herself into a kneeling position of sorts. A rag was tied over her mouth, and was damp against her cheeks as she looked around her. Bumping her elbows against something hard and solid, she realized that there was hardly enough space to move around in.

It was the carriage filled with the healer's cargo. Why did he need all of these to bring to Kippernia? She sidled over to one trunk on the floor, on which she had bruised her elbow. She found its corner, hard and sharp, and immediately turned her back to it and started sawing the ropes on her wrists on its metal corner.

She kept at it a while, and stopped for a rest when her arms became sore. With her eyes growing more adjusted to the dark, she inspected the rest of the cargo. They were mostly large trunks, with locked lids, suitcases, which were probably filled with clothes, and other boxes which looked as though they might hold laboratory equipment. Was the healer here on an extended stay?

Working on her ropes again, she started to see light seep through a slit in the roof. So it's early morning, she thought. Wait a minute, then that means…

Frantically, she started thumping her feet on the wooden floor while at the same time running her bonds thin. The carriages were kept near the stables, and Colton checked those every morning. Maybe he would hear her and come rescue her.

Instead, several heavy footsteps came to the carriage door and opened it abruptly, bright light pouring in, nearly blinding her. She shut her eyes against the white light and felt herself grabbed by several pairs of arms and carried roughly out.

What first assailed her was the harsh cold wind against her exposed face and hands. She was slung over someone's shoulder, and a thick cloth slung over her, providing some warmth against the unexpected cold. She wriggled in her captor's grip, and poked her head out from under the cloth, and blinked several times.

Snow? Mountains?

The northern border.

-.-.-

Landen had worked up a sweat in training that morning, according to the routine scheduled for him by his father. Several hours he ran around the barracks, adequately heated in the harsh weather, then followed the special exercise plan in his father's special training room. Then he spent another hour or two horseback riding in the massive indoor range, on his father's second-favorite horse, Rush. He'd been at it for several weeks now, and he felt himself growing more accustomed to the hard work; but still he could not see his father's purpose for him.

He saw the other soldiers at their duties; not exactly knights, neither were they squires. They were not trained as knights, with the code of gallantry and what-nod; it was like there was only one rule up here: Defend everything. Leave no man behind. Perhaps the harsh conditions had caused them to change their warrior's paradigm, but it seemed brutally effective in the terrain. He could see why the northern border has been the unbreachable border.

However, he never was able to again confront his father about his mysterious past. Was the old man telling the truth? How much of it was real? Could he trust his father to be honest with him?

Questions assailed his mind as he showered and dressed to finally pay a visit to his father's quarters, to finally set things straight. He knocked on the door of his father's office, and was told by a gruff voice to enter. Opening the door and stepping through the doorway, he was greeted by the now-familiar sight of his father's military post, a large and much-used room. The warmth of the fireplace filled the whole room and lit the silhouette of the high-backed chair, and his father, hunched over some military correspondence.

"Father, I think it's we talked. I know," he said, walking towards the table. "I've heard. An old healer named Hawthorne told me everything. I want to hear from you whether it's true or not."

Captain Winthrop sighed and rubbed his forehead. "What a dilemma," he said, putting the papers down and rubbing his eyes. "Do we spend on new saddles or better food for the horses?"

"Father!" Landen said in a pleading voice.

"Yes, yes, I heard you," he said, picking up a feather pen and dipping it in ink. "Well, saddles are no use if they don't get proper quality bran mash," he mumbled to himself, signing the document and putting it aside.

"Son, I-," he said, putting his hands together and looking up at Landen, standing in front of his desk. Sighing again, he continued "You should know. All I've done, I've done to protect you. Remember that."

He stood up, pushing his large chair backwards, then walked around the table to stand in front of Landen. In the firelight, Landen could see the wrinkles in his father's face, barely count the gray hairs on his head.

"I-," he began, but was abruptly cut off by a banging on the doors, followed by the doors swinging open violently. Several armed men in a strange uniform stormed into the room, as several of the Captain's own guards lay writhing on the ground outside.

"What is this? How did you get in here?" the Captain said, bewildered, hand immediately pulling out the sword at his waist.

"Well, well, well," an excruciatingly familiar man said, entering the room with slow, deliberate steps. "Looks like the three of us are together again," Elysium Hawthorne smiled at the two of them.

-.-.-

Kipp yawned and stretched back on the bale of hay he was sleeping on. "Things are much too quiet around here for my tastes. How long do those two plan to be away, anyway?"

With nothing but the constant relentlessly pounding of steel upon steel from Colton's forge, the castle was indeed an extremely quiet place to be, in the early afternoon.

He yawned again. "Ah, well. It was time for my afternoon nap, anyway," he said, as he turned over to one side. Suddenly, a loud screeching noise from overhead startled him, and he fell off his makeshift bed and onto the dusty courtyard ground.

"What in the-?" he exclaimed, rubbing his bottom which had struck the ground harshly. "What was that?" he said, looking upwards for the source of the noise.

He was startled once more by the sudden appearance of Sir Galadore, banging open the door to the knight's quarters and rushing down the stairs onto the battlements, his armor clinking loudly. What's he doing in battle gear? Kipp wondered as the knight marched on.

Then he saw the answers to his questions as a falcon suddenly swooped down low into the courtyard. He dove to the ground as its large wings swept the air above his head. Looking up, he saw Galadore beckoning it onto his armored arm. Ah, so it was for the bird… Wait, it still doesn't make sense!

Sir Galadore untied a rolled-up parchment from the falcon'sleg and unrolled it abruptly, a serious expression on his face. He looked extremely anxious, and had every right to be. This was a high-speed falcon, sent out only in extreme and emergency situations. And judging by its white colorings, it had to be from-

"The Northern Border-," he suddenly shouted into the castle grounds. "- has been breached! The King must be informed!" he said, quickly putting a mark on the parchment before tying it to the falcon's leg once more. He released it, and it flew off to another fortress, to warn them, as it had been trained to do so in case of a breach like this.

The knight looked more agitated than Kipp had ever seen him before, and with Lynn and Landen as his students of 3 years, that meant he must be riled up beyond his limit right now. He rushed down the battlements, yelling orders to the castle staff at the top of his lungs.

"You there, jester!" he shouted to Kipp, startled that he had been noticed. "Run into town and call the militia. Announce quickly the castle's call to arms. Summon them to this castle."

"But Knight Galadore Sir," he said, unused to being talked to by the knight master. "I am just a jester! How will they take me seriously? If it were one of the squires…"

"You're good at imitating, aren't you?" Galadore suddenly said, with a smirk. "Go take a suit of armor and a shield and call them. They will surely respond to the kingdom seal."

Kipp was suddenly excited and frightened at the same time. To dress like a knight? That was nearly a criminal act of impersonation! But since Sir Galadore was ordering it, and because he had always wanted to wear the armor-

"Sir, Yes, Sir!" he shouted, giving a knight's salute before running off into the quarters to fetch him the best armor he could find.

But once the excitement wore off, the underlying fear and uncertainty rose to the surface once more.

What was happening to the kingdom?

-.-.-

(Sorry, had to edit it ^^;. I ended up wanting the story to go another way, since the previous plot was too messy. I guess that's the joy of fics; even the author is surprised at what happens in the story. Anyway, I really want to thank the loyal readers for sticking with the story. It's about at the climax already, so it's all battle-stuff from now on!)