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Authors: Jennifer A. Nielsen
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treasury.
The stars gradually rotated in the sky as my distance from Farthenwood increased. I wondered how long Mott would sleep. Probably late into the morning. He’d feel the effects of the sleeping powder and instantly know he’d been tricked. Since I became king, no one had dared curse me to my face, but he’d undoubtedly use every word in the devil’s vocabulary tomorrow when he checked my room and found it empty. Then he’d find Tobias. I hoped Tobias would be able to persuade Mott to do what I’d asked. No, it was more than just hope. I
needed
Mott to obey me.
I was less than an hour from the border when I first heard the signs of trouble. The frenzied voices of men yelling and a woman screaming. Horses in random movement. The unsteady flicker of a torch in the distance. I withdrew my sword and turned Mystic in their direction.
The screaming stopped abruptly, and all the voices quieted for a moment, then a man cried, “There’s one more!”
I was close enough by then to have a good idea of what was going on. There were several men, all with Avenian accents, and they were armed. One man saw me coming and left the group to charge for me. I easily blocked his sword with my own, then sliced deeply into his arm. With a scream he shrank into the shadows.
The other men seemed unsure of what to do, maybe from the surprise at being caught, or perhaps because I had bested the first man so quickly. However, there was no hesitation from me. I galloped forward and caught another man in the back with my blade.
That prompted a confusion of orders from the other horsemen, though they all seemed to agree that I could not be allowed to escape. It was their foolish miscalculation to think escape was anywhere in my plans. They rounded on me, which should have forced me back into the dense brush. Instead, I rode forward, aiming for the man holding the torch since he only had one hand to fight with. He had a jagged scar running down the side of his face and somehow became even uglier as I rode closer. He got in one good swipe at me, but I ignored the sting across my stomach and turned Mystic back at him. I hammered my sword down hard onto his, and both it and the torch fell into the dirt. I thrust at him again, not sure exactly where it landed, but the wound went deep. Another man rode up beside me and clashed his horse into Mystic, but Mystic was a far more powerful animal and the man’s horse stumbled. I swerved around and made a slice at his leg, and with a yelp he backed away from me, following his companions as they fled into the darkness.
A branch cracked behind me and I turned, sword ready. Silence filled the air again, but I wasn’t alone. I dismounted and led Mystic by the reins toward the bush. Then, in a sudden move, I dropped the reins, reached through the leaves, and yanked whoever was back there up to my blade.
“Please don’t hurt me!”
I stepped back, surprised. It was just a child, a young girl who couldn’t have been older than six or seven. She stood nearly to my chest with light blond hair that fell halfway down her back. She wore a plain cotton nightdress and had bare feet; she probably had been rushed from her bed in an attempt to escape.
I immediately lowered my sword and crouched down to her. “It’s all right; you’re safe now. But what are you doing out here?” It was too dark to know for certain, but she didn’t appear to be injured. “Are you all right?”
She took my hand and led me a little farther away to the base of a tall elm tree. A woman who must have been the girl’s mother was lying on the ground there. Her breathing was so shallow and forced I knew she had to be injured. She must have been the woman whose screams brought me this way.
I knelt beside her and felt near her abdomen for any sign of a wound. When she sensed my presence, she opened her eyes and touched my arm. “Don’t bother,” she whispered. “It’s too much.” Her accent was Carthyan. She was one of my
The stars gradually rotated in the sky as my distance from Farthenwood increased. I wondered how long Mott would sleep. Probably late into the morning. He’d feel the effects of the sleeping powder and instantly know he’d been tricked. Since I became king, no one had dared curse me to my face, but he’d undoubtedly use every word in the devil’s vocabulary tomorrow when he checked my room and found it empty. Then he’d find Tobias. I hoped Tobias would be able to persuade Mott to do what I’d asked. No, it was more than just hope. I
needed
Mott to obey me.
I was less than an hour from the border when I first heard the signs of trouble. The frenzied voices of men yelling and a woman screaming. Horses in random movement. The unsteady flicker of a torch in the distance. I withdrew my sword and turned Mystic in their direction.
The screaming stopped abruptly, and all the voices quieted for a moment, then a man cried, “There’s one more!”
I was close enough by then to have a good idea of what was going on. There were several men, all with Avenian accents, and they were armed. One man saw me coming and left the group to charge for me. I easily blocked his sword with my own, then sliced deeply into his arm. With a scream he shrank into the shadows.
The other men seemed unsure of what to do, maybe from the surprise at being caught, or perhaps because I had bested the first man so quickly. However, there was no hesitation from me. I galloped forward and caught another man in the back with my blade.
That prompted a confusion of orders from the other horsemen, though they all seemed to agree that I could not be allowed to escape. It was their foolish miscalculation to think escape was anywhere in my plans. They rounded on me, which should have forced me back into the dense brush. Instead, I rode forward, aiming for the man holding the torch since he only had one hand to fight with. He had a jagged scar running down the side of his face and somehow became even uglier as I rode closer. He got in one good swipe at me, but I ignored the sting across my stomach and turned Mystic back at him. I hammered my sword down hard onto his, and both it and the torch fell into the dirt. I thrust at him again, not sure exactly where it landed, but the wound went deep. Another man rode up beside me and clashed his horse into Mystic, but Mystic was a far more powerful animal and the man’s horse stumbled. I swerved around and made a slice at his leg, and with a yelp he backed away from me, following his companions as they fled into the darkness.
A branch cracked behind me and I turned, sword ready. Silence filled the air again, but I wasn’t alone. I dismounted and led Mystic by the reins toward the bush. Then, in a sudden move, I dropped the reins, reached through the leaves, and yanked whoever was back there up to my blade.
“Please don’t hurt me!”
I stepped back, surprised. It was just a child, a young girl who couldn’t have been older than six or seven. She stood nearly to my chest with light blond hair that fell halfway down her back. She wore a plain cotton nightdress and had bare feet; she probably had been rushed from her bed in an attempt to escape.
I immediately lowered my sword and crouched down to her. “It’s all right; you’re safe now. But what are you doing out here?” It was too dark to know for certain, but she didn’t appear to be injured. “Are you all right?”
She took my hand and led me a little farther away to the base of a tall elm tree. A woman who must have been the girl’s mother was lying on the ground there. Her breathing was so shallow and forced I knew she had to be injured. She must have been the woman whose screams brought me this way.
I knelt beside her and felt near her abdomen for any sign of a wound. When she sensed my presence, she opened her eyes and touched my arm. “Don’t bother,” she whispered. “It’s too much.” Her accent was Carthyan. She was one of my
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