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Escort Duty – Part 19

The sun had been up for an hour when Simon and Hollo approached the village.

“I don’t know about you,” Simon said, “but I need a bath, some food, and a few hours of sleep.”

Hollo merely grunted as he looked at the village on the horizon. He stiffened as he saw several men on horses milling around near the tavern. He put his hand up, and Simon reined his horse to a halt.

“What is it?”

“Not sure. Was there a troop of cavalry in the village last night?”

“Not that I saw,” Simon replied, rising in the stirrups to get a better view of the village.

“Well, they’re at the tavern now.”

They rode their horses off the road and into a copse of trees. After dismounting, they tethered the horses to a willow next to a small stream and crept as near as they could to the village without being seen.

Closer inspection did nothing to assuage their fears. Even from this distance, they could see soldiers, both mounted and on foot, searching the buildings. Villagers stood around, clutching children close and bowing their heads to officers when they issued gruff orders and demands.

“Well, that’s the end of this trip,” Hollo said, turning to go back to the horses, “No way they weren’t captured.”

“We need to find out where the princess is,” Simon said, putting his hand up to stop his friend.

Hollo regarded him for a moment, then sighed.

“You and your damned sense of honor. Seriously, it’s going to get you killed someday.”

“Have to die for something,” Simon replied, “Think you can get in there without raising suspicion?”

Hollo said nothing, but reached his hand up to his amulet without asking Simon to turn around. His features blurred for a moment, then were replaced with those of a large crow.

“Never seen how you do that before,” Simon said, “Try to find out if they’ve been captured, and where they’ve been taken.”

The crow blinked twice, then took off in a rustle of black wings. Simon watched as it landed on the roof of the tavern, turning this way and that from its perch. After a moment, it flew down into the village and out of his sight.

Simon stole back to the horses and waited for Hollo. He was getting anxious when he heard wings beating on the wind, and then Hollo walked out from behind a tree.

“I’m doing that too often,” the thin man said, “Going to have to rest a bit.”

“What did you learn?” Simon demanded.

“They took the lady last night. She’s in Booda by now, probably.”

“And Greta?”

“Dead. I heard the innkeeper’s wife complaining to someone about having to clean up the blood.”

Simon shook his head at that. “We should never have left them,” he said angrily, slapping his fist into his palm.

“They’re searching the village for us,” Hollo continued, “The innkeeper told the soldiers that the last he saw of us, we were leaving the tavern last night.”

“How far is it to Booda?”

“If we take the main road, we can be there tonight, but we can’t go that way.”

“And if we go the way that doesn’t end up with us locked in a crow’s cage?”

Hollo looked up at Simon’s choice of words, then said, “We can be there by dawn tomorrow.”

“Good,” Simon said, turning to the horses, “let’s get going.”

Hollo shook his head and muttered as he mounted his horse. “Going to get both of us killed.”

Other episodes can be found here.  The entire anthology can be purchased at Amazon.

Escort Duty – Part 18

Erika sat on the windowsill, wrapped in a bed sheet, enjoying the cool evening breeze. She was clean for the first time in weeks, and while her dress was dirty, and to be honest, stunk, a night hanging out in the air would do it wonders.

Another bowl of stew and a good stiff drink will do me wonders, she thought as she listened for Greta to return. She heard the stairs creak, and turned to face the door. The sound of heavy boots on the landing brought her heart to her mouth. She froze for a moment as she heard a hand work the latch on the door, then she moved quickly to hide.

A black-clad soldier burst through the door, followed by his partner, who still gripped Greta by the arm. The room was empty except for the bed and small table in one corner.

“Where is she?” The first soldier roared, kicking the bed over.

Greta looked around anxiously, but no sign of her mistress was to be found. The soldier holding her wrenched her arm badly, spinning her around to face him.

“If you’ve lied to me, girl, it’ll go worse for you,” he growled.

“I swear, I don’t know!” she cried in fear and pain. Her shoulder screamed as the soldier twisted it. He bared his teeth, pulling the small woman’s face close to his.

“Where did she go?” he demanded, spittle flying from his lips he spoke.

The other soldier walked to the window, and looked down at the yard below. Seeing nothing, he looked to either side. A wide smile came to his face as he extended his arm through the window.

“My lady, please, take my hand,” he said with false gentleness, “It would be a shame for you to slip and fall so far.”

Erika, who held to the stone gutter by her fingers, glared at the man for a moment before she reached up and took the offered hand. The soldier gripped her wrist tightly, and lifted her back through the window.

Erika straightened and adjusted the bed sheet covering her body after the soldier set her down on the floor. She gave him her most petulant look, saying, “How dare you bother me in such a manner? And how dare you abuse my servant?”

The soldier bowed, saying “Princess, we expected to see you sooner. Duke Kyrali has sent orders to watch for you, and that you are to be brought to him so that he may show you hospitality worthy of your station.”

“You mean he means to hold me for ransom, or worse.”

“I am but his servant, my lady,” the soldier replied, “Now, if you’ll come with us, we’ll get you to the Duke tonight.”

Erika turned to walk through the door, but then lashed out with her foot, kicking the soldier in the knee. He bellowed in pain as his leg folded underneath him. Her bare feet pounded on the wooden floor as she rushed for the door.

The soldier holding Greta reached out with his free hand and snatched the princess by the hair as she ran past. Her head wrenched back, and she lost her footing, landing hard on the floor. Greta screeched as she clawed at the soldier’s face, leaving long, bloody marks on his cheek.

The soldier roared in pain, throwing Greta to the floor. Erika stood again, pulling out a few strands of hair as she shook herself loose. The other soldier regained his feet, lunging at her, and catching the edge of the sheet as she ran through the doorway. Erika screamed as she felt him hold her back, and she kicked at her attacker, trying to break loose.

Greta regained her feet and jumped on the soldier’s back, pounding at his head with her fists. The second soldier, one of his eyes blinded with blood dripping from his wounds, drew his dagger and drove it into the maid’s back.

Time seemed to stand still as Erika saw the blade plunge into Greta. The princess watched as her maid stopped her attack when the pain hit her. Greta opened her mouth as if to scream, but no sound came came from her, as she looked into her mistress’ eyes in shock.

The soldier pulled his dagger from the young woman’s back with a twist, and kicked her in the ribs. Greta fell into a heap on the floor, a pool of blood slowly spreading out from under her. The two soldiers grabbed Erika by the arms, pulling her kicking and screaming down the stairs.

“Greta!” she screamed, “Greta!”

Other episodes can be found here.  The entire anthology can be purchased at Amazon.

Escort Duty – Part 17

Hollo and Simon left their stolen horses tied to a mile marker with a large “1” engraved into its stone face. Silently, the pair walked through the open field to the side of the road, guided by the watch fires the soldiers kept on the far side of the bridge.

As they drew nearer to the huts, they kneeled in a ditch to watch the garrison for a few minutes. The dark sky, which had made their approach so easy, now betrayed them, as they could make out no details.

Hollo looked to Simon and touched the amulet on his chest. Simon nodded, then turned his back. Simon looked off in the distance as he heard Hollo take in a sharp breath, then his ears heard a rustling sound, then nothing. The half-elf sat there for a few minutes, until he heard another rustle, then felt Hollo tap him on the shoulder.

“Twenty-five men, about a third of them up and on watch,” he whispered, “The rest are asleep in the two huts nearest to the road on the left there.”

“Are our horses still there?”

“That big building over there is a stable. I heard my pony nickering, so the rest should be there, too.”

“And the rest?”

“The hut next to it is painted and has bars on the windows.”

“That’ll be where the officer sleeps, and I’ll bet our things are in there with him.”

Hollo shrugged. “I wasn’t able to get a good look in there,” he replied, “Although there was something shiny in the lean-to on this side.”

The two men talked quietly for a few more minutes, then moved toward the cluster of huts. Simon slowly made his way through the shadows toward the stable, while Hollo crept toward the officer’s house.

Simon winced at the low creak the door made as he opened it, but his ears picked up no hint that the guards watching the bridge had noticed. Inside, he found their horses, as well as Hollo’s pony and a large warhorse, probably owned by the garrison’s commander. The mule was nowhere to be seen.

Simon scratched the pony between his eyes when the little horse nudged his hand, then began saddling the horses.

Hollo found the door to the officer’s hut latched shut, and a tug on the bars proved that they were solidly affixed to the house. Hollo sighed in frustration, and looked around for some way in. Finally, he hung his head, took a deep breath, and touched his amulet.

A few moments later, Hollo stood on the floor next to the officer’s bed. The man was fast asleep, his head tilted back as he snored loudly. A small candle burned on the small table next to his bed, and its light reflected from the treasures the commander had collected from the shipments to the capitol. Gold and silver plates, bags of coins, and several weapons, their hilts and scabbards inlaid with jewels, were heaped in piles around the small room.

Hollo stood transfixed by the wink of candlelight on jewels and polished metal, but regained his senses after a few moments. He spied Gnarlthing, along with Simon’s daggers and Erika’s sword in its scabbard, leaning against the wall. He picked them up, then recognized one of the bundles the mule had carried. He opened it an inch or two, and felt soft cloth when he put his hand inside.

Nodding to himself, he picked the sack up just as he heard the clop of hooves walking through the yard. Going to the window, he saw Simon leading the horses and the pony toward the hut. He put his hand out the window and waved through the bars. Simon saw it and walked the horses over.

Wordlessly, Hollo passed the weapons through the bars, along with a couple bags of coins he grabbed from the floor. He tried to push the bundle of clothes through as well, but it would not fit through the bars.

“Leave it,” Simon hissed quietly, “We’ve been here too long.” As if to punctuate this, both men froze when they heard the officer’s breath hitch in his sleep, followed by the rustle of bedclothes as he rolled over.

Hollo nodded, setting the bundle on the floor. He touched his amulet and disappeared from Simon’s view. A moment later, he stood up on the other side of the window.

“Let’s go,” Simon said as they mounted their horses. Greta’s horse was tied to Simon’s saddle, while the pony followed on a lead tied to Erika’s mare, which Hollo mounted. The two men crept out of the encampment, keeping their horses to the side of the road, until they regained the mile marker where the two horses they had ridden from the tavern were tied up.  They retrieved them, putting them on a lead behind their horses before remounting.

“I’d kill to see that bastard’s face when he wakes up tomorrow morning,” Simon said as they cantered down the road toward the village.

“It’ll be a mystery talked about for a long time,” Hollo replied with a chuckle.

Other episodes can be found here.  The entire anthology can be purchased at Amazon.


I thought I’d get this one out of my head before it slipped away.
A badly tuned guitar played with more enthusiasm than talent split the night as I crept through the shadows of the gravel parking lot. I found my quarry’s car, a meticulously restored sedan from the Kennedy administration, complete with a vanity plate that read “MRBIG” on it. I put my ear to the trunk, but didn’t hear anyone bumping or thumping around in there.  
I crouched in the big car’s shadow and tried to figure out what I was going to do next. I wasn’t part of the crowd that would normally be welcome in the Hawg Shed, and I didn’t think I’d get far if I just walked in and ordered a beer.   Best case scenario would be that I’d arouse suspicion and get tossed out or spook the man I was looking for.  Worst case, well, I didn’t want to think about worst case.  A couple of big guys stood at the door, lengths of pipe or something like that in their hands.  I doubted they were there to enforce the dress code.
Maybe there’s a back door, I thought as I looked around the compound. Off to one side, a dilapidated old farmhouse, its spine broken by several wet winters with no windows, squatted at the very edge of the glare from the floodlights. I slipped from one shadow to the next, finally making a quick dash up the cracked and uneven walk to crouch at the top of the rotten porch stairs.
Now to find a way in there, I thought as I tried to get my breathing to slow down.  
The guitar gave way to someone banging away on what sounded like a pretty impressive drum set, then the almost inhuman growl of the lyrics drowned even that out.
“Wish they’d turn that crap down.”
I tensed at the voice, deep and powerful, but not loud. I slowly turned to find myself face to face with an older man sitting in an old kitchen chair next to the front door. His eyes twinkled and he smiled underneath a heavy handlebar mustache that might have been black at one time, but was now shot through with gray. He was wearing an old pair of jeans and a white shirt under a battered bomber jacket, complete with sheepskin at the collar.  A pair of heavy work boots were tapping to the band’s rhythm, so he couldn’t have disliked it that much.
“Uh, sorry,” I stammered. “Didn’t know anyone was home.”
“Nah,” he replied with a dismissive shrug. “Just wish they’d shut that place down. It’s hard to get any rest with all that going on.”
“I guess they’re just blowing off some steam.”
“Son, we were just blowing off some steam when all of us got together after the war and started riding together. This is just,” he waved at the pole barn dismissively, “well, it’s just not right.”
“All of you?”
“Yeah, a bunch of us raised a little hell on weekends, but it weren’t nothing like what those assholes do.” He looked over to the edge of a porch, where a scrawny orange cat had silently jumped up from the overgrown bushes. At a gesture from the old man, it padded over and jumped into his lap.
The hair on the back of my neck stood up when I noticed that the cat didn’t stop at his lap, though. Its paws sank through the denim of his jeans until the cat stood on the chair’s seat.
He reached up and started scratching at its ears. I could hear it purring, but when it started kneading its claws, they sank into old wood instead of his leg.
“Nah, we never did anything like what they’ve got going on over there.”  He shook his hear ruefully.  “Worst we ever did was get drunk and see how fast we could race up Dixie Highway.  Those boys, well, I don’t want to think about what they do after the crowd goes home.
“I was trying to have a look, but I don’t think they’ll let me in the front door.”  I had to fight hard to keep my voice even.
“Yeah, you better go around back and go in through the old storm cellar.” He moved his hand to scratch under the cat’s chin. “Just, be careful, boy. Devil’s business going on in Elmer’s old barn these days.”
I heard the crowd in the bar across the parking lot roar when the band stopped playing and glanced over to make sure nobody was taking an opportunity to come out. When I looked back, the old man was gone. In his place, the cat had curled up on the kitchen chair, still buzzing with contentment.
Well, I thought, guess I’ll see what’s going on around back.

Escort Duty – Part 16

A few minutes later, Erika and Greta were ensconced in their room and were busily taking advantage of the washbasin and pitcher of cold, clear water the innkeeper’s wife had brought for them. The two men took seats at the bar and sipped on mugs of beer while they talked.

Simon put down his empty mug, but shook his head when the barman raised a hand to him.

“After a month alone with those two,” Hollo said, signaling for a refill, “you deserve another beer.”

“I’ve had worse times,” Simon said, “Although I believe our charges are sick of my face and voice by now.”

A smirk came to his lips as he said, “But another drink would be good.” Hollo chuckled as he raised his hand a second time.

Simon took a sip from the earthenware mug the barman laid at his elbow, then sighed contentedly. “Ah, that’s good. We must take some to the ladies once they’ve freshened up.”

Hollo also took a pull from his beer. Wiping the foam from his lip, he said, “The plague hasn’t spread to this side of the river, but the news is that it’s ravaging Pesht worse than any army could do. It’ll be a wasteland by winter at this rate.”

“From what we saw, no horde could do better,” Simon replied, “We can let the ladies rest here for a few days, then we’ll continue moving west. The sooner this job is over, the better.”

“Going to have to steal some horses if you don’t intend to walk.”

“No, we’re not going to steal anything, my friend. We’re going back and getting our things from that bastard at the border.”

“Seems a lot of trouble for a few nags and the princess’….” Hollo started to say.

Simon gave him a hard look and brought a finger to his lips.

“Quiet, fool. We’re not among friends,” he muttered.

Hollo nodded, but said nothing further. The barman, who had been walking past, seemed to have heard nothing. Simon watched him go, his eyes slitted, then he shrugged and faced his companion.

“We’ll leave after dark and be back by morning,” he said, “Rest up tomorrow, then leave the next day.” He lifted his mug and took another drink. “You’ll have to get us some horses for tonight.”


Simon and Hollo finished their drinks, then took a clay pitcher of beer and some food up to the women. They were both freshly scrubbed as well as plain water could do, and had found a hairbrush somewhere. Greta had helped her mistress take off her dress, and after the princess wrapped up in a sheet, hung her dress out the window to air out.  Their moods were improving with their appearance, and the sight of a pitcher of beer, a few bowls of stew, and fresh-baked buns made Erika squeal like a little girl.

As they ate, Simon told the princess of his plans while they ate.

“We’ll be back tomorrow morning, but you’ll have to watch over yourselves tonight. Stay here, and don’t go out for anything or let anyone in.”

“Yes, yes, we’ll stay here in our cage, Simon,” she replied dismissively.

Simon gave her a measured look, then stood and walked to the door. Hollo followed.

“Simon, be careful,” Greta said as he opened the door to leave.

“I will, my lady,” Simon replied with an easy smile, “Please take care of your mistress.”

Once the two men were outside, Hollo walked to the stable, a couple of bronze coins jingling in his hand, while Simon waited in the courtyard. A few minutes later, Hollo rounded the corner, leading two horses. The two men mounted without a word, and turning their noses toward the east, were soon making their way back toward the bridge and its garrison.


Erika watched them go from her window. Behind her, Greta was preparing her bed for the night. Both of their stomachs gurgled at the same time, and they exchanged a look before both laughed at the sound.

“Greta, do you think they’d give you something more to eat downstairs?”

“But, my lady, Simon said…”

“I know what he said, Greta. I also know that the smell of that stew the innkeeper is serving downstairs is driving me mad. Go and fetch some. Oh, and see if you can get another bucket of beer. Might as well celebrate our freedom a bit more.”

Greta bowed her head resignedly, then walked down into the tavern. She spied the barman, who was speaking to two men in black leather breeches and jerkins. Spying the maid as she came down the stairs, he pointed to her. The two men pushed themselves away from the bar and walked toward her with grim looks upon their faces. Greta retreated to a corner at their approach, raising her arms in front of her face as if she expected to be struck.

“Where is your mistress?” one hissed in her ear as he grabbed her by the arm and twisted it behind her back, “Where is Princess Erika?”

Other episodes can be found here.  The entire anthology can be purchased at Amazon.

Escort Duty – Part 15

As the first dawn after the new moon exploded over the eastern horizon, the door to the hut creaked open. The officer, his uniform just as dirty as it had been when he had locked them away, called from the yard.

“Happy day!” he cried, “Time to leave!”

Simon led Erika and Greta from the hut. The maid blinked in the bright sunlight, while Erika looked angrily at the half-circle of soldiers arrayed around the hut.

“I’d thank you for your hospitality, sir,” she said haughtily, “if I could call it that.”

“No need to be rude, my lady,” the officer said, “You and your servants are free to go.”

Simon looked about, his mouth turning down into a frown for once.

“Where are our horses?” he asked, “I had hoped to get them back.”

“You have no horses, nor anything other than what you have on your backs. That was the deal, remember?” the officer said, “The things you brought with you are now the property of the Duchy of Booda, in repayment for our hospitality these past four weeks,” the officer answered with a smile.

“My sword is a dear gift from my family. I would consider it a service to be repaid to get it back,” Simon said, locking eyes with the officer.

“And am I to walk? Is that how you treat a noblewoman in these parts?” Erika said, her harsh voice rising to fill the yard.

“You have what you have,” the officer said, his smile disappearing, “Now, be gone, or my patience will wear even more thin than it has become.”

Erika looked to Simon, who shook his head. He gave a half bow to the officer, then led the ladies back to the road. Behind him, he could hear the soldiers following them to the edge of their post, then felt their eyes on his back until they had crested the first low rise in the road.

Once they were out of earshot of the soldiers, Erika laid into Simon.

“So we walk all the way across Booda, is that it?” she hissed.

“My lady, there is nothing to do now but to walk, for now. We cannot stop. We either walk forward, or we walk back.”

The trio trudged along the road the rest of the morning. At mid-day, they stopped at a small bridge and rested in its cool shade. Simon was able to gather some water plants for them to eat, which was not much better than an empty stomach.

Finally, just as the sun was beginning to dip toward the horizon in front of them, they spied the smoke from the cooking fires of a village. Their stomachs rumbling a tune for them as they went, they hurried forward.

Soon, they were on the village’s outskirts, and the sounds and smells of that little bit of civilization almost overwhelmed them after a month of near-silence and hunger. Simon led them toward a building with a sign, which bore a picture of an armored knight riding a shaggy dog, hanging above its door. As they drew closer, they made out the name of the tavern, “Ambrosius and the Knight”.

“Hopefully I will be able to bargain some labor in exchange for a meal or two,” he said as they went.

“Am I to muck out stalls now?” the princess snapped. Hunger and fatigue had not improved her mood.

“No, my lady, I’m sure they’ll need a scullery for the night,” Simon said drily, a half smile on his tired face. Greta flushed at this, but all Erika could manage was to stick her tongue out at him.

As they trudged up the lane toward the tavern, they were surprised to see a familiar face.

“Hello, Hollo,” Simon said as his friend pushed himself off from where he had been leaning against the tavern’s wall.

“Simon, how goes it?” Hollo said with a nod. The guide looked the same as ever, while the three travelers were thin, worn, and dusty from the road.

“Where in the name of the seven sisters have you been?” Erika demanded shrilly. Even Greta looked shocked at the reappearance of their guide.

“Oh, here and there, my lady,” Hollo answered, nodding toward the inn, “I’ve gotten us rooms here, if you’d prefer them to sleeping in the woods.”

Erika’s face flushed a deep red, and her hands trembled as she clenched them into fists. Then, like a thundercloud that dissipates after darkening the sky, she lifted her head and said simply, “That will do, my man. Show me to my chamber.”

Other episodes can be found here.  The entire anthology can be purchased at Amazon.

Escort Duty – Part 14

The trio spent the next few weeks languishing in quarantine. Food was bland, monotonous, and enough to keep them from starving, although Greta complained on occasion that her ribs were showing. Simon spent the days singing to the ladies or telling stories, and occasionally Erika would sing along in a high voice which rang like a silver bell across the yard.

They kept count of the days by watching the moon as it rose across the gorge behind the hut. They had come to the bridge the morning after the new moon, so when the moon was full again, they knew their ordeal was half over. In celebration, Simon talked one of the guards into bringing them a couple of apples, which the ladies enjoyed as if they were the finest delicacy they had ever eaten.

Several days later, as the first heat of early summer was baking them and even the breeze from the window seemed hot and steamy, their patience wore thin.

Simon sat upon the bare floor at his usual spot in front of the door. In his hand, he held a small stick, which he used to beat a rhythm on the leather of his boots as he sang.

In Nottingham there lives a jolly tanner,

With a hey down down a down down

His name is Arthur a Bland;

There is nere a squire in Nottinghamshire

Dare bid bold Arthur stand.


With a long pike-staff upon his shoulder,

So well he can clear his way;

By two and by three he makes them to flee,

For he hath no list to stay.


And as he went forth, in a summer’s morning,

Into the forrest of merry Sherwood,

To view the red deer, that range here and there,

There met he with bold Robin Hood.


Erika glared at the half-elf from her bedroll, where Greta was fussing at her hair. The maid had neither comb nor brush, so she used her fingers to untangle her mistress’ long hair, then braid it back together. Her own hair was as neat as she could get it, but she was continually pushing it back into place.

“Must you sing that again?” the princess said crossly, “I’ve heard that one enough that I can hear it in my sleep!”

“Is there another song you’d prefer, my lady?” Simon replied.

“I swear, I’ve heard every poem, tale, and ode ever jabbered by drunk minstrels!” Erika cried, bringing her hands to her face and rubbing her eyes.

“It’s only a few more days, mistress,” Greta said, “Then we’ll be on our way.”

“I would sacrifice either of you to the darkest gods of the wood to feel a cool breeze and have something better than bread and water to eat!”

Simon shrugged, then returned to his singing.

As soon as bold Robin Hood did him espy,

He thought some sport he would make;

Therefore out of hand he bid him to stand,

And thus to him he spake:


Why, what art thou, thou bold fellow,

That ranges so boldly here?

In sooth, to be brief, thou lookst like a thief,

That comes to steal our king’s deer.


For I am a keeper in this forrest;

The king puts me in trust

To look to his deer, that range here and there,

Therefore stay thee I must.


Erika made a face at Simon, then turned away from Greta and lay upon her blanket.

“Awaken me when it’s time to eat again. I’m going to sleep until then,” she said petulantly. Above them, a crow cawed from the roof’s peak. “And if that damned bird gets close enough, wring its neck and feed it to me raw!”

Greta looked at her mistress with worry in her eyes, then looked to Simon, who had stopped singing, but continued to beat a rhythm on his boots.

“It’s only a bit longer, Greta,” he said gently, “Then we’ll be on our way.”

Other episodes can be found here.  The entire anthology can be purchased at Amazon.

Escort Duty – Part 13

Simon reined his horse to a halt when they came within shouting distance of the bridge. A squad of guards, armed with spears and bows, barred their path, and an officer in armor stood before them. On the far end of the bridge, clusters of huts lay on either side of the road, but wood from a fire only rose from the ones to the right. The bridge spanned a deep valley, a cataract of white water roaring at the bottom of its steep granite walls.  The mid-day sun glinted from the sides of wet rocks along its banks far below, and the spray from a waterfall just upstream made a rainbow halfway down the gorge.

Simon raised his hand in greeting, his leather gauntlet dusty from the road.

“Well met, good sir,” he called out, “We wish to cross to Booda.”

“Go back!” the officer replied loudly, “None may come into our lands from this accursed place!”

“We’re not from Pesht,” Simon replied calmly, using his knees to urge his horse to walk a little closer. He stopped when one of the archers lifted his bow and pulled his arrow back to fire.

“Duke Kyrali has decreed that none may come from Pesht!” the officer shot back, “Now go!”

Simon looked about the border post, then glanced down at the gorge. The sides weren’t exactly sheer cliffs, but the ancient, misused trail that ran to the bottom looked treacherous enough to claim at least one horse and rider on the way down and back up, even without the detachment of soldiers watching every step.

Simon looked back at the soldiers and called out, “Is there nothing that can be done? I am the escort of Lady Piroska of Tanahuk, and she has business in Booda.”

The officer considered the three riders for a moment. Finally, he stepped forward to within speaking distance.

“Is it just the three of you then?” he asked quietly.


“Why the pony? Did you lose a child along the way?”

“The lady insisted. I have no idea why she wants the smelly thing to come along.”

The officer examined the riders again.  His mouth worked as his eyes measured their clothing and trappings, seeming to weigh the situation in his mind.

“Since you don’t seem to be rabble trying to get away from the plague, here’s what I can do for you,” he finally said, “You stay here for a month. If you don’t get sick, I’ll let you go. If any of you get sick, my men will kill all of you and I’ll have your bodies burned.”

“My mistress needs to be in the capitol as soon as possible.”

“It’s either that, or you turn around and go back the way you came.”

“That’s inconvenient, but if that’s all that can be done, there are worse fates.”

The commander met Simon’s eyes with a hard gaze, “This isn’t a free service. Everything you have is mine. If you’re good guests, I’ll let you walk out of here with the clothes on your back.”

“My mistress will not want to walk,” Simon said.

“That’s not my concern,” the officer said curtly, “Those are my terms. Agree or go back.”

“Unfortunate,” Simon replied with a sigh, “but it appears we have no choice.” Behind him, Erika looked furious, but held her tongue.

The officer signaled to his men, and they retreated across the bridge. Simon and the two women followed them over the gorge, then to the unused clutch of buildings. The trio dismounted, then were herded into one of the dilapidated huts. The officer watched as Gnarlthing was handed over, as well as the pouch of coins which Erika kept on her belt and everything else they carried.

“You’ll stay in there for a month. You will touch no-one, nor shall you speak to anyone, understand?” the officer said sternly.

“We understand, good sir,” Erika said, “But what are we to do for a month?”

“Entertain yourselves, my lady. One of my men will be by to feed you every morning and evening. Tip the slop bucket out the window in the back when you use it,” he replied, turning to leave. Erika did her best to burn a hole in the back of his tunic with her glare as he went. His men barred the door, then led their horses and the mule toward the buildings on the other side of the encampment. Simon watched them go. He noted that the officer went into the hut next to the stable, where their horses were led.

“Why didn’t you fight, and where is Hollo?” Erika demanded.

“My lady, there were five men with spears, four archers, and an officer with a sword on the bridge,” Simon replied, “There are at least twice that many on this side. As for where Hollo went, he’s about. He’s a wanted man on this side of the border, so I guess he didn’t care to chance being recognized.”

“You should have found another way across!”

“Princess, this is the only bridge for a hundred leagues in either direction, and I’m sure they’re just as rigorously guarded.”

“So we just sit here for a month?” Greta said.

“It would appear so.”

“I should have taken the damned boat,” Erika hissed in disgust, “At least then I’d have had a bed to sleep in.”

Two thin blankets lay in one corner of the hut, and a bucket sat under the window. Other than that, the place was bare of furnishings. The wattle and dob walls were dingy and damaged from want of care.

“Well, it’s going to be a long month unless we find something to keep ourselves occupied,” Simon sighed as he took a seat on the packed earth floor next to the door. He could hear the guards shuffling around in the yard outside, and the caw of a crow echoed through the gorge behind their prison. The sound brought a smile to his lips.

That evening, a soldier came to the hut and lowered two buckets through the window, one with bread in it, the other half full of water. Simon tore the dense, stale loaf and distributed it to the women. They ate in silence as the light of sundown streamed through the open window, taking turns cupping handfuls of warm, sulphurous water from the bucket. Once the sun set, the darkness inside the hut was almost absolute.

“Well, good night, my ladies,” Simon said as he lay down in front of the door, “I wonder if this counts as our first day.”

Erika shook her head and muttered to herself as she wrapped herself in one of the blankets, while Greta lay down next to her. Simon lay quietly for a few moments, listening as the women fell asleep and the guards made their rounds. The last of the spring rains pattered against the hard-packed dirt of the yard outside the door and on the hut’s thatched roof.

At least the roof doesn’t leak, Simon thought as he drifted off to sleep.

Other episodes can be found here.  The entire anthology can be purchased at Amazon.

Escort Duty – Part 12

Hollo placed the last stone over Soren’s grave as the early morning sun peeked over the top of the pines surrounding the meadow they had used as a camp the night before. In the valley below, a huge column of black smoke rose from where Taszar had been, but his sharp eyes no longer saw the old woman who had set it alight.

He stood and stretched as Simon led the women over. Greta had wept softly as she went about her duties.  Erika, on the other hand, kept a stony expression on her face, betraying her grief with only a stray tear or two that burned hot tracks down her cheeks. The women wore clean clothes, both because they wished to honor Soren, and because Simon had burned the clothes they had worn as they rode through the village the night before.

Erika wore the plainest dress she had, which was of a deep green velvet embroidered with silver flowers. Greta’s dress matched the one she had worn before, made of soft wool dyed the color of oak leaves in autumn.

Simon had cursed himself for not bringing along plainer clothes for the princess, but had cursed most vociferously when he found that no spare set of traveling clothes was in the bundle Hollo had spirited away from the camp. He had burned his clothing, too, and now wore the black leather breeches and armor, with two gryphons embroidered on its chest in gold thread, which he normally wore only in battle. There was no other clothing for him to wear, and the presence of the women kept him from going about naked until he could find something more suitable.

“My lady,” Hollo said solemnly, bowing low. He looked exhausted after traveling all night to retrieve his pony and catch up with the group after they had traveled up into the hills above the village. His clothes had also gone into the fire, but the guide had an identical set in his saddle bags.

“Master Guide,” the princess said simply, her eyes, brimming with tears, averted from Soren’s grave. Simon had awoken her when he found the captain dead from the wound to his head. Hollo had found them by the light of their campfire soon thereafter, and both men had labored until past sunrise to dig him a shallow grave.

Greta washed the body and dressed him in his armor before Simon and Hollo gently placed him in the hole they had dug. Hollo prayed as Simon placed Soren’s sword in his dead hands, then both men labored to cover the body with several layers of stone from the nearby creek.

“A good man,” Simon said simply.

“Yes,” Erika said, emotion cracking her voice, “I will remember his service.”

Hollo looked up at the sun. “We’d best be going, my lady,” he said, “We need to be away from here before the Lord of Pesht sends men looking for your attackers.”

Erika nodded gravely, then leaned down and lay her bandaged hand on the stones of Soren’s grave. Rising, she turned and walked to her horse.

Other episodes can be found here.  The entire anthology can be purchased at Amazon.

Escort Duty – Part 11

They rode down the trail until they came to a dry stream bed, which ran to the north. Simon turned there, taking them out of the hills and onto the valley floor just as the sun touched the mountains to the west. Soon, they rode in darkness, their way lit only by the stars.

Every so often, Simon would reach down to touch Soren’s breast and count his breaths. The soldier continued to breathe, but made few sounds and no movement. When Simon touched the bandages around his head, he could feel the wet of his blood seeping through them.

Simon looked up at the stars and whispered a prayer to his family’s gods for Soren.

“He can be a hard man,” he said, “but he’s loyal and a good warrior. Watch over him for me.”

The stars blinked down at him coldly, and no message of hope or comfort repaid him for his prayer.

Their horses stumbled through several fields left to fallow, but when they came upon a narrow lane of packed earth, they found their footing. After that, their progress was slow, but steady, and soon the forms of houses and barns loomed out of the darkness as they passed.

“Can’t we have a torch?” Greta asked plaintively after a tree, which she hadn’t seen, smacked her in the face with the end of a branch.

“Hush,” Erika ordered, “Simon’s trying to secret us across to the village, and that’ll give us away!”

The path turned to the west as they crossed a bridge over a small river, its water babbling through the bridges pilings as it went. The road on the other side was of stone and seemed well maintained compared to the dirt track they had been following.

“We should see the village soon,” Simon said quietly, “Hollo said it sits on that water, and it’s tucked right up against the hills.”

They rode on as a sliver of moon rose over the horizon. It was not bright enough to see details, but now they could make out farms as they came upon them. No dogs barked as they passed, nor did they see any lights or other evidence of people.

“It’s all abandoned,” Erika said.

“The bard at the tavern told me about this,” Simon replied, “He said that entire swaths of the countryside were deserted from the plague.”

“I thought that was up by the capitol?”

“Branka must have been wrong. There ought to at least have been a watchman on that bridge, and I’ve never come this close to farms at night without some cur waking up the entire household. There’s nobody here.”

The road turned to follow the river and rose to meet the hills in the distance. The only sound they heard was the water as it moved over stones in its bed and the clop of their horses’ hooves on the paving stones.

Finally, just as the moon set, Simon caught sight of a light ahead. He hissed to the women and pointed. The women started to speed their mounts toward the village ahead, but Simon raised a hand to stop them.

“Patience, ladies,” he said, “The captain needs us to be steady.”

After another half hour of riding, they came to the outskirts of the village. The buildings were dark, and by the light of the stars and the fire in the village’s central marketplace, which was what they had spied as they approached, Simon could make out doors and windows hanging open. Further in, the foundations of buildings remained where they had been pulled or burned down, leaving holes like open graves on either side of the road.

Simon gently halted his horse as they came to the center of the village, a plaza covered with the ashes of what must have been a huge fire. A smaller pyre blazed atop the ashes now. Erika could see the legs of chairs and other furniture fueling it, and the princess’ breath caught in shock when she saw the tiny body, wrapped in bedsheets, burning atop it.

The still form of an old woman kneeled next to the fire, her head bowed as if in prayer. Her face was streaked with soot, as was the plain brown and green dress she wore. A golden brooch, decorated with red and white stones to take the shape of a flying dragon, lay on her breast. Next to her, a staff of polished and engraved wood and several torches lay in a neat stack. Simon dismounted and approached her.

“Is this Taszar?” he said as he stepped closer.

“It was,” the old woman croaked, “once upon a time.”

“What happened here?” Erika called from atop her horse.

“Everyone died. Everyone,” the woman replied, standing up. Simon could almost hear her bones groan at the effort. She was stooped with old age, and she used the staff to support herself as she lifted her head and examined the strangers.

“Two weeks,” she said, “two weeks ago things were just fine here. Now, I’m all that’s left.”

“We were looking for the healer,” Simon said.

“No healer here, not anymore,” the woman said, “Old Katta is all that’s left.”

“The plague?”

“Everyone got sick, even the animals. Whole families would lay down at sunset and not rise with the sun. Now, they’re all gone.”

“Did nobody escape?” Greta asked. She clutched at the throat of her dress, looking around at the empty houses.

“Some tried. The Count’s men stopped them on the other side of the mountains and wouldn’t let them pass, so they came back here to die.”

The crone was wracked with a spasm of coughing, which doubled her over as she tried to catch her breath. Finally, the fit ceased, and she spit a gobbet of red-tinged phlegm onto the ashes at her feet.

“Won’t be long for me, either,” she said, leaning on her cane.

“When did the healer die?” Simon asked.

“Oh, I didn’t die,” Katta replied, trying to crack a smile, but failing, “I just gave out. So much death, and nothing I could do. My power faded as I watched them die.”

“We have a hurt man here,” Erika said, “Can you not help him?”

“Nay, it’s best I don’t try,” Katta said, turning toward the princess, “I’ve no power left to heal him, and I’d just spread the contagion to all of you.”

Simon nodded sadly. “Is there anything we can do for you?” he asked gently.

“There’s nothing to be done. By the time the sun rises, I will be with my children and their children in the next world. You’ll only join our fate if you come much closer.”

Simon turned and remounted his horse. He solemnly raised a hand to the old woman, who returned the gesture before falling into another coughing fit. He reined his horse back onto the road and led the women away from the pyre.

Katta watched them go, then kneeled in the ashes again. The words of a prayer returned to her lips as she lifted her head to watch the flames lick up toward the stars. After a long while, the fire burned down to a bed of coals shimmering in the dark. The old woman picked up one of the torches, lit it, and then hobbled toward one of the buildings near the plaza.

Other episodes can be found here.  The entire anthology can be purchased at Amazon.

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