You would never guess who's back with two brand new Heather-labelled chapters.
Editing cookie prize - Rose. Seriously. You should get a truck full of cookies for that amazing job of unscrambling whatever I've sent you lately!
CHAPTER 2: TOO MANY WOMEN
Lord Elias heard the echoes of the screaming from the corridor crossing the one he was currently walking down. Early morning found Castle Vestholm mostly in deep sleep, except for some servants, and the Lord of Trade prayed to the Almighty that nobody would get woken up because of that noise. The castle walls were known for their ability to transport any whisper through the whole building within seconds, both metaphorically and literally, but certainly, this time the high voice was too loud not to be heard. A female voice.
Elias rolled his eyes and walked towards the source of the noise. Stepping around the corner, he saw Lady Kestral shout something at a tall man in a black cape. Elias had not seen him before, but suspected him to be Hakim Abd Al-Sar, the southern ambassador that had been saved a few days before and rumoured to have come to the capital just this morning, along with Kestral, who had been sent on the mission to rescue him.
"Exactly what do you mean by your thank you?" Kestral did not seem to be in a very good mood.
On the other hand, the man seemed untouched by her emotions, like a marble statue. Elias came a bit closer, still unnoticed.
"I meant exactly what I said," he replied in a low, steady voice. "Thank you for showing me to my chambers, um ... Kestral. Your work is done here, since I am at the castle. I am sure your Queen and the Knights will reward you for your service."
Elias raised his eyebrows. At the beginning the thought that the Southerner forgot Kestral's name when he stuttered, but then the Trade Lord realized. That stranger was looking for a proper title.
The Knight's thoughts ran faster than he could manage to analyze. Something did not exactly fit here.
"You what? The Knights what?" Kestral had lost her cool completely, supposing she had any left. "Who do you think I am, mister?"
Before the Southerner could answer, Elias quickly came closer to them to prevent the situation from going any further.
"Good morning, Kestral!" he said.
The woman just sighed and rolled her eyes.
"Morning. You're up? Good! Take care of our Wise Boy here, before I totally lose my nerves!" she answered and walked away, leaving the two men.
Elias followed her with his sight up to when she disappeared around the corner.
"Lord Elias Walter Carraway," he said to the man, bowing a bit.
"Hakim Abd Al-Sar," he replied. "My lord, can you please tell me, why was that woman so ... impolite?"
"Certainly," Elias did not show any emotions. The Southerner was not the only one with that particular skill. "I believe you offended her. I have to ask you though, who do you think she is, my lord?"
"I suspect she is a low-rank officer, a converted bandit working for the Knights of Vestholm. Clever."
"I am sorry to disappoint you. Lady Kestral is a Knight of Vestholm."
The stranger's marble face was suddenly broken by a total surprise. Only for a moment, but Elias took it as his first win over the Janubian.
"I did not know," he just said.
"No, you did not know. Kestral does not look like a Knight, nor does she behave like one should. But lately, I see, everyone gets to be a Knight," the Trade Lord added. "Have a good day, my Lord!" he shouted and left the Southerner.
Hakim felt lost, not for the first, and not the last time that day.
The grey sky before the sunrise in Vestholm was something Hakim had to get used to. It looked entirely different from the sights he had seen in his homeland. From the Northern Gate the view was absolutely stunning. Standing on the gate's balcony, the Knight leaned on the wall's railing, looking in the direction where the sun was supposed to come from. The air close to the ground became pink, then red, as the day was beginning.
Finally, the red ball came from hiding, slowly bringing light and warmth to the city of Vestholm.
Suddenly, a stone flew right next to the Knight's head.
"Hey, Prince Charming!" Hakim heard from below the gate. "You gonna spend all day up there, or can we leave now?"
Without any word, the Janubian went down the staircase. He untied his horse and mounted.
"Yeah, good morning to you too," the bandit murmured with irony.
"I assumed I could spare you the formal greeting pleasantries," Hakim replied.
Hawker rolled his eyes. "All right," the Assassin said. "We have quite the long way to go."
They passed the Northern Gate and headed for the trail.
"Where exactly are we heading?" the Knight asked.
"Gallos. Come on!" Hawker shouted the last words as he pushed his horse into a gallop.
Having passed the last major city on their way, the two riders headed for one of the rarely used routes. It was late afternoon and the sun was starting to set, as the September days begun to get shorter. They reached the mountain area, with narrow passages and lively streams. Although having visited Gallos on various occasions, Hakim had never been to the mountain region.
Milo had not spoken too much along the way. The Knight had hoped to hear the information he desired, but had to rely on his patience instead.
The trail started to get more narrow and it took longer to cross any distance. Eventually, Hawker stopped and dismounted.
"Wait here," he said, giving Hakim his horse to hold and disappearing into the growing fog.
The Knight dismounted as well, looking in the direction Milo took. It was starting to get cold. The temperature in the mountains dropped quickly.
Something felt awkward. Hakim remembered Thordal talking about the little hunches he had.
"If you feel it's wrong, pal," the Viking would say, "then you're either a coward, or in trouble."
The Knight did not have time to figure out which of these referred to him. He suddenly felt a blunt, strong pain at the back of his skull.
He was unconscious before he hit the ground.
The very first thing Hakim saw when he opened his eyes was red. Blurry and unclear, but bright as poppies in the sun.
The Knight of Vestholm had experienced this feeling only a few times, and only in the distant past. Waking up with a certain flaw in his memory was not something he was used to at present.
Right now, Hakim had trouble putting all of his memories back together.
Slowly, he turned his head and looked around. The surrounding crimson turned out to be the interior of a tent. The Southerner found himself lying on a pile of pillows. Mechanically, he reached for his scimitar, but it wasn't where expected. Instead, it was hanging on a chair.
The memories drifted back to their places, gradually. Hawker. Gallos.
Kestral.
They were attacked by someone. He had been knocked out, back in the forest. But where was Hawker? And why hadn't they tied him up?
And oddest of all, why was his weapon here?
The man stood up, took his weapon and looked carefully outside. There were no guards – actually, there was nobody near the tent. The Knight walked out and felt the light September sun. Something was wrong.
Hakim walked slowly, with caution. He saw two more tents near, and a couple a bit lower. He was on some sort of platform, surrounded by high cliffs on one half, and a steep hillside with just one way out on the other. The way leading to the other tents.
The Knight decided to act before the enemy realised he was missing. He prowled to the fortification put near the entrance to the lower platform. Carefully, he looked from behind it. He saw a dozen men and women walking around, shouting, doing different activities. There was no way he could get past them undetected.
He turned around and walked back to the group of tents where he had woken up. The path ended at the fireplace between the tents. Hakim went further, passed the fire, and reached the hill on the other side.
It was steep, and surrounded by another set of fortifications. The man looked at those with a bit of admiration. There was no actual way in except for that entrance on the other end of the platform.
But the way out, he would consider just fine.
The hillside was about four or five yards high. Down, there was another platform with tents put up in a circle, but he couldn't see anybody this time. The diagonal fortifications were easy to walk on and jump from, but Hakim would be spotted easily that way. Instead, he crawled onto one and hung down. He let go and easily dropped the two yards to the ground.
Now the hillside. It was made of sand and clay; there were no rocks. Hakim calculated his chances quickly. The most secure way was to do it the same way as with the palisade. The Knight again placed his hand on the edge; this time he had much further to jump. It was too late to turn back, so he let go.
He fell down in a cloud of dust, crashing to the ground. He stood up quickly, making certain he hadn't broken anything. His head was spinning a bit, but rational thinking made him hide behind the nearest tent. Hakim looked around again. Behind that tent was only another line of palisades and probably another hillside. Doubtful that he would be in any condition to fight after another fall like this. His knees were aching; his left arm was bruised.
That was not the smartest thing to do, he thought. It is good to know after having done it.
He peered out from behind the tent. There wasn't a living soul around. The Knight moved to the next tent, and the other one. About ten yards parted him from the exit to a lower platform. He could see a river and some boats tied to the shore.
Hakim walked to the palisade close to the path. The terrain lower was full of people, seemingly bandits. There was no way of sneaking through there unseen. The Knight thought of the options. He could try to escape somehow and then come back for Hawker with the troops, or he could look for the Assassin right …
In a sudden premonition, Hakim turned around, just to see a woman run towards him. She must have been in on of the tents. And she did not look friendly.
She was was bearing a sword, making him take out his scimitar as well. He dodged a deadly strike, precise and strong. The blade swung towards him again, making him block, but in a very uncomfortable position.
But to the woman's surprise, Hakim managed to mislead her and while blocking he moved towards to attack somehow. He pushed his scimitar and took a step towards, cutting the air inches to the enemy's throat. He heard voices of surprise.
The woman stroke again, but Hakim moved swiftly to the right, making her lose her balance when she struck the air instead of flesh. He used it to his advantage and pushed her to the ground. He threw away her sword, but she stood up and attempted to attack him with bare fists.
The others, having heard the noise left whatever they have been doing and ran towards the fight.
Hakim crouched quickly at the very last moment, then let the momentum throw the woman behind him. She flew and fell roughly to the ground. But she was tougher than she looked, already standing up.
"What's wrong with you, Victoria?" The Southerner saw Hawker move though the men and women surrounding the fight scene.
Untied and unhurt, Milo was front of him. He walked towards the woman Hakim had kicked and lifted her up. Her feet swung in the air.
"Have you lost it completely?" Milo screamed. "When Ammae said to keep an eye on him, she didn't mean sending him to Kingdom Come! Understood?"
The woman nodded, grimacing. Milo dropped her without any mercy and turned to Hakim.
"Learn to use the sword before you wield it!" he shouted to her without turning. "Welcome to the Assassins' camp," he murmured to the Knight.
"I assume I was spared the formal greeting pleasantries?" he replied with cold irony.
Hawker stopped. The Bandit observed Hakim hide his scimitar, cautious and considering the Knight's next move.
The Southerner didn't hide his irritation.
"Would you mind explaining this, please? First I get knocked out, I get to jump through your palisades and cliffs and then get attacked by ..."
"Wait a second. You got here through the palisade?" Hawker opened his eyes wide.
"That would be the case."
Silence fell among the Assassins. A mixture of confusion, admiration and amusement could be seen on everyone's faces.
Milo just waved his hand dismissively.
"You Knights are impossible," he said. "And you – all of you! You are now assigned to a very new thing!" He grinned with dry irony. "Check all the fortifications, you bunch of idiots! You couldn't even watch over a three-year-old, you empty-headed cretins! Ammae!" He called to a blonde woman.
"Yes?" She came closer with a sigh.
"Hakim, this is Ammae," he added, introducing the woman. "My second-in-command. Ammae, this is Hakim, the Knight of Vestholm."
The blonde shook her head with a smile.
"Did you really jump over the palisade?"
"It seems I did," Hakim replied. "But the experience might require a medic to check on me later."
"And Kestral used to say you Knights are a bunch of rule-obeying boy scouts." She chuckled.
"And – let me guess – she joined their ranks to change that for the better."
"Certainly." Ammae burst into laughter.
"Your palisade is just fine," the Southerner said to Hawker. "It's impossible to cross from the outside."
"Yeah, but we still need to check it. We haven't done it in quite some time, anyway," the Bandit replied.
Ammae looked at Hakim's arm and the ripped sleeves.
"Come on, you need to see our medic. Then I can give you a tour."
"Don't we need to discuss ..." Milo started.
"No", she interrupted. "Medic first."
"Fine", he said with growing irritation. "Make sure Chloe gets her fair share of that palisade job when finished." His raised eyebrows showed some objections about Ammae's decision and the Southerner wondered why Hawker would let his second-in-command give him orders.
The Assassins' leader turned around and walked away without any other word.
Ammae gestured that Hakim should follow her. They went along the river bank, passing the two boats.
"Is he going to be all right?" Hakim asked, looking in the direction where Milo went.
The female bandit shrugged.
"Isn't he a big boy, who's going to take care of himself?"
"Or maybe he is just worried?"
"Maybe. So tell me," she said. "Are all Knights so eager to get bruises?"
"Are all Bandits trained in using sarcasm?" he replied.
Ammae laughed.
"Are we going to keep that tradition of asking only questions to one another?"
"Do you want to keep it that way?" Hakim asked yet another question with an ironic smile. Funny, he did enjoy this conversation, if he could call it that.
Ammae did not answer. She just kept walking until they reached a vast tent by the cliff side. She peered inside, then gestured for Hakim to come in.
"C'mon, Chloe will examine you," she said, disappearing behind the curtain.
The Knight walked in, and saw what Alandra would call a paradise. The tent was the medical point, and a fully equipped one. A row of five low, simple beds, with pillows and blankets. Hakim spotted two chests, probably with medicines and bandages. Inside was warm, warmer than out in the open. The Knight wondered how it had been achieved.
And there was Chloe, obviously.
Hakim had thought that Kestral might have been the only female among the Assassins' ranks, although his belief has been shattered again and again that day.
Chloe was very young; the Knight wouldn't give her more than twenty years. She was rather short, her head topped with flaming red hair. Hakim had never seen such a lively colour. The colourful scarf prevented the hair from escaping, as the medic's work required that.
As Ammae could be judged to be among Assassins by accident, Chloe was fitting in just fine. Only she did not wield a sword with her, but a bag, probably with bandages and medicaments instead.
"You didn't lie, Ammy." She grinned. "He is cute."
Hakim raised his eyebrows, looking at his guide, but Ammae just shrugged. He reached his hand out to greet the medic properly, but she ignored the gesture and started looking at his bruises.
"Kestral never told you what and what not to do around here, did she?" she murmured without taking her eyes off the job. "Shirt off, handsome," she added.
Hakim looked at her with a mixture of surprise and shock.
"Don't look at me like that," the redhead said, searching for bandages in one of the chests. She did not have to look on the Southerners face to know it's expression. "I can't bandage you with – that – on." She pointed to his ripped shirt.
Hakim thought of his one and only personal medic at the castle. One named Alandra.
Ammae turned around not to make this situation worse and to give the Knight some personal space.
"What Chloe means is that we don't usually shake hands. That gesture means something else here," she explained as Hakim took off his cape and what was left of the shirt. Chloe returned with the bandages.
"Mister, you have one awful bruise on your back." She pushed one finger lightly against the swollen skin, making Hakim grimace. "And a deep cut on left arm. My expertise – you're going to live."
"Oh, for a moment there I had thought you might have to amputate a limb or two," he replied ironically.
"Patience, darling. In time, it'll heal."
"Is there anything else I should be aware of?" he asked, rolling his eyes.
"A lot," Ammae replied with a smile.
"Like, for example," Chloe murmured, annoyed while putting on a bandage. "Don't jump through our palisades. Ever."