A/N: Sorry it's been so long. My web service is down, soI'm doing a quick-upload at the library.Thanks for revewing. I wanted to get this up ASAP for those who've been waiting. Enjoy!
Book Two of Keladry, Lady Knight
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Chapter Seven
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February 27, 461
Just South of Hamrkeng
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"Lilla, sweet, could you help me bake today?" Tysia asked after Owen and Harod had left.
"I'd like t'," she said with a smile. "Me mum didn't live long enough to teach me."
"I don't mind at all. Now, I think that we need some bread. But first, we should find you something better to wear. Come along," Tysia said. Lilla followed her up the stairs to the loft. At the opposite end of the room, there were two large trunks, placed side-by-side. They were wooden; one had an 'R' burned into the lid, and the other, a 'G.'
While Tysia opened the second one, Lilla traced the R with her finger.
"What d' the letters stann for?" Lilla asked.
"Rupent and Gwenyvere," Tysia said. "My children."
"What happened to 'em?"
"They died, a long time ago," Tysia said. She pulled a small woolen blue dress out of the chest, smoothing it carefully before handing it to the girl.
"I'm sorry," Lilla said, pulling her own dress over her head.
"You're a sweet child," Tysia said, helping Lilla with her clasp. "Let me braid your hair so it's out of your face while we bake." Lilla turned around and shook out her long auburn hair.
"There be a lady called Gwen at New Hope," she said thoughtfully as Tysia braided. "Tobe said 'er little baby was born las' Se'tember, an it's very cute. Gwen calls her Lawra."
Lilla was too young to pick up the sadness in Tysia's voice as she tied off the braid with a length of blue yarn. She turned the little girl around and smiled at her.
"There now. You're a very pretty young lady," Tysia said. She followed Lilla down the stairs, grateful for the little girl who was bringing a little brightness to her dreary home.
…
Cleon of Kennan surveyed his new post. A tall, stern woman who had been introduced as Fanche Weir glared at him. Apparently Cleon wasn't the only one who hated that he was replacing Kel at New Hope. He longed to ride north and search for her, but his request, of course, had been denied. Cleon decided instead to look after Kel's refugees. After all, she would worry about them.
Every day he prayed that she would live and return to New Hope. He didn't move any of her things, telling himself that this was just a temporary position. Jump slept at his feet. The dog was forlorn without Kel there. Her sparrows were upset too. Nari, the leader, seemed to take it harder than the others and she was growing weak. Cleon had to bring her food to her in the little cubby she had chosen to build a nest in. The nest itself was one of Kel's clean wool socks, balled into a circle.
Cleon had never seen such devoted friends.
"Come on, girl," Cleon urged, bringing seed to Nari one night. "Don't die on Kel." He remembered Crown and Freckle's funerals in Persopolis. He didn't want this sparrow to die without Kel.
He was startled back to the present by Jump's teeth to his ankle. The dog's teeth had not broken his skin; he just wanted attention. As he rubbed his ankle, he realized that the dog had been barking at him.
"What is it old boy?" Cleon asked as he scratched behind Jump's good ear. The dog let out what sounded very much like a groan of frustration, and grabbed onto Cleon's sleeve, pulling him to the window. A pigeon was sitting there, breathing wearily. A note was tied to its foot.
….. Hours Earlier ...
"Where are we?" Owen asked, following Harod down the spiraling staircase.
"When the Kings of Old died out and the warlords took over, those still loyal to the line started a secret resistance, the Underground Circle. It was prophesized that one day, the man descended from true royal blood would strike, and take back the throne of Scanra. That day is looming, closer now then ever."
"Does your wife know about this place? About any of this?"
"Tysia? No. You see, young Jesslaw, with entrance to the Circle comes a terrible price, as it is very dangerous. If the warlords found us they would kill us all, from the oldest man to the youngest child. I didn't have the heart to bring her into this dangerous life any more than I already have. She thinks that our children are dead, when actually, they are both very alive; I sent them away to keep them safe."
Harod led Owen down an impossible labyrinth of tunnels and passages, until at last they stood in front of a door. It opened into a massive, high-ceilinged hall, with stone pillars running the length of the walls, and a scarlet carpet runner marking the path to the next door. Owen stepped gingerly on the red lane, feeling as though it would shatter under his feet. The door was stained dark, and on either side, there was a stone fountain trickling.
Harod opened this next door to reveal a large, polished table. Men were gathered around this, swords at their sides. At one end of the table, several maps and charts were spread out. The man leaning over them looked up at the sound of the door. His eyes were a vibrant shade of blue with wavy brown hair falling into them. A grin lit his face as he recognized the newcomer.
"Father!" he said, coming around the long table to embrace the elderly man. Owen
gazed around the room. Stone carvings of ancient kings decorated the walls, except the one behind Harod's son's chair. There a tile mural was built, depicting a blend of kings, swords, and battles from a forgotten age. Centered above this all was a golden crown with a swirly 'U' beneath it.
"Owen, this is my son, Rupent," Harod said, catching the knight's attention. Owen held out
"Sir, it is an honor."
"Thank you, Sir Owen. I believe that you may have met my sister. She's a refugee from a small village near the border, now relocated to New Hope. Gwen?"
"Yes, I have met her," Owen said.
"Is she alright?" Harod asked. Owen nodded.
"She is very well, as is her child."
"Good. I will send a message to her, but now time is short," Rupent said, turning back to his diagrams. "The time has come; we're ready. Tonight we lay siege to Maggur and his men. He has been kidnapping Tortallan knights and holding them in his service with magic."
Rupent brushed his hand across a chart that showed the layout of Maggur's castle, speckled with dots.
"Each night for the past few months, we have been studying the placement of the guards in Hamrkeng Castle. Black is for Maggur's men, and red for Tortallans. My men have been instructed not to kill our southern friends, but to keep them incapacitated until we can find a way to remove the spell that has been put over them.
"Our plan is to sneak over the wall and conceal ourselves in the uniforms of the king's men. The other half will crawl up through our tunnels and hatches to infiltrate from inside. Sir Owen, if you would join us we would be honored." Owen only nodded. His head was too full of new information to try and make coherent sentences. Rupent turned to his men, raising his voice for all to hear.
"Our course was set hundreds of years ago. We cannot fail," he said. Owen and Harod were led away to be armed.
"Are you going as well?" Owen asked the old man.
"I wouldn't miss the chance to get at ol' King Maggot for nuthin," Harod answered. Owen grinned.
"This may turn out to be a jolly adventure after all."
…
Cleon carefully untied the note from the pigeon's leg and set the exhausted bird near a dish of seed. He unrolled the little scroll. A short message was penned in dark berry ink.
"To Gwen at New Hope: The time has come. Jesslaw is with us. – Rupent."
Cleon puzzled over it, then decided that he had to face the dragon if he was to find Gwen. He went to the barracks, but was redirected to the mess hall. He took a deep breath and approached Fanche Weir.
"If you don't have an important matter about my refugees, I think I'll be leaving," she said. She wasn't getting along with this new knight. Cleon caught her arm as she stood.
"Look, I know that you would rather have Kel back, but I need your help," he said. Fanche glared at him for a long minute.
"What?" she asked at last. Cleon gave her the note.
"Do you know who this is?" he asked. Fanche nodded and, without waiting for Cleon, walked out of the door. He had to pick up speed to catch up. When he did he discovered that the woman was spewing information about Gwen.
"… a young widow; her husband died in last June's fighting. She is a Scanran refugee, and their baby was born on September 10, delivered just before Sir Nealan set out for R and R. I can give their record numbers if you'd like."
"That's alright," Cleon said stiffly. They entered the fourth barracks and Fanche led him to the end of the row of cots on the right. A young woman was there, sitting on her cot, her baby between her feet. Her golden curls tumbled down around her face, though she had attempted to secure them at the base of her neck with a faded bit of blue yarn. Her sapphire eyes shone as she tickled the child's feet. The baby grinned.
"She's beautiful," Cleon said. Gwen looked up from the baby's face.
"Thank you, Sir," she said, noting Cleon's crest. "Her name is Lawra."
"Gwen, this is Sir Cleon of Kennan, the one who replaced our Kel," Fanche said, emphasizing 'our Kel.' Cleon was getting exasperated. She was his Kel too. "He found a pigeon that was carrying a note for you."
As Fanche gave the note to Gwen, she didn't seem startled in the least; she only shifted the baby to one arm to read it.
"May I hold her for you?" Gwen smiled politely and handed her daughter over to the knight. Cleon sat on the edge of the cot, rocking her baby softly. He and Fanche watched Gwen as she read the note.
Her eyes flashed and her face looked as though a grin wanted to spread across it.
"Rupent!" she said at last.
"What does it mean?"
Gwen turned away and quietly paced the length of the cot, tears growing in her eyes. As she looked back at them, she crossed her arms. The pull on her sleeve made the collar of her dress slide down off of her left shoulder. A small crown over a scrolling "U" was branded there.
"What is this?" Cleon asked, standing up. But Gwen didn't answer his question. She only had one thing to say.
"The prophecy will be fulfilled."
…..
Owen snuck up behind the sentry and swiftly clubbed him with the broad edge of his borrowed sword. Quickly he de-robed and donned he soldier's uniform, tossing the man, clad only in a loincloth, into the river below. He looked upon these men as bandits. They had stolen his best friends; they were no better than the thugs who had murdered his mother.
Owen hid his own clothes and weapons and stepped out of the shadows. As he waited for the other men from the Underground Circle to do the same, Owen listened to the beat of his heart. He had read that, although the exact count varies, the average human heart would beat between four and five thousand times an hour. Usually, he paid no attention to the little internal clock, and he had never kept time by it, but he also never before had disguised himself as a Scanran and to help the descendant of an ancient king put himself on the throne.
As time slowly passed, Owen heard each beat.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Then, at last, the hand signal from man to man. Owen's heart sped up. The battle had begun.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
…..
Little Lilla was snug and warm beside the sleeping Tysia. It was very quiet in the small cottage.
Lilla wished that Tobe was there to smile in the dark and squeeze her hand, whispering for her to go back to sleep. Often he would tell her made-up fairy stories about damsels in distress that were saved by brave knights, throwing in an occasional griffin or centaur for his own entertainment.
Lilla missed the soothing sound of his voice. She was sure that she would never see Tobe again. Or Lady Kel and Sir Owen for that matter. Lilla just knew that they would die and leave her, just like her Da.
The girl closed her eyes and pictures the faces of all the people she had lost, even the one she imagined her mum to have. She held on to these faces for as long as she could, memorizing every hair, smile, and eyebrow, until the picture was shattered to bits by a sound, her lonely heart, beating all alone.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
…..
Gwen woke to Lawra's crying. She carefully lifted her baby from the little cradle beside her cat, and slipped out the back door. Gwen didn't want to disturb anyone's sleep.
Lawra was fussing to be fed. Gwen sat on a bench beside the door and pulled her blanket over her shoulders, concealing her nursing child.
As the baby suckled, Gwen looked up at the stars. She often thought of her mother and past life. Rupent had kept Gwen informed of their parents health, but Gwen still wished to see her, to share the news of her daughter with her.
Gwen struggled to keep her heart and breath steady as she pondered her future. Right now her brother was fighting for his crown. By morning, Rupent would be king of Scanra. Gwen knew that his first act would be to begin drawing up a peace treaty with Tortall. The war would be over within month. She would see her mother then.
Gwen prayed for the safety and success of her brother and his cause, and for the recovery of the missing Tortallan officers.
She lifted her baby to her shoulder and patted her back. A sound rang in her ears. It was the thump of her heart, echoed by a smaller, faster, thump-thump of Lawra's.
Thump. Thump-thump. Thump. Thump-thump. Thump. Thump-thump.
…..
Combined, these four hearts would beat more than ninety-six thousand times before dawn. Owen would be too busy to dote on it, and Lilla couldn't count that high, and Lawra was just a babe, but Gwen would remember the long hollowness of each and every beat.