• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

By Root 577 0

and Nevyn, who generally rode beside the prince. Just behind them came the silver daggers, with Owaen and Maddyn at their head. Branoic rode about halfway back in the troop, out of reach of Owaen’s sarcasm. Although he understood why Caradoc had made Owaen his heir, he didn’t have to like it. Ever since he’d taken over, Owaen had made Branoic’s life miserable—assigning him the worst duties, giving him the worst horses, chewing him out over every petty thing he could find. It was time, Branoic decided, to ask the prince for that boon he’d promised. Although he never would have left the silver daggers while Caradoc lived, Caradoc was riding in the Otherlands these days. Branoic decided that he’d rather be cursed than ride under Owaen for another summer’s fighting.

With such a late start the army didn’t get far. They camped in fallow fields near a stream that fed into a farmer’s duck pond. Although a couple of the silver daggers speculated about those ducks and how easy they’d be to catch, the prince himself forbade the stealing of a single one.

“And not a single apple from that tree, either,” Maryn said. “Pass the word around the riders, will you? We’ve taken enough from my people, and we’re not taking any more.”

Once the silver daggers had pitched their tents, Owaen strolled through their section of the camp and assigned guard duty. Branoic wasn’t in the least surprised that he drew the middle watch—the worst, as it broke a man’s sleep and then sent him back to his blankets with only a few hours left before dawn. Oddly enough, though, in the event he would be grateful to Owaen.

In the dark of the night, when his predecessor woke him, Branoic went to Maryn’s tent to stand guard. Yawning and shivering in the chilly air, he stood outside the tent-flap on the off chance, he supposed, that an enemy would manage to creep unseen and unheard through an army of several thousand to murder the prince. He had just taken up a comfortable stance when he heard Maryn moving around inside. In a few moments more the prince came out to join him.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Maryn remarked. “I’ve been having trouble that way, of late.”

“That saddens my heart to hear, Your Highness,” Branoic said. “Can’t Nevyn brew you up some herbs?”

“He won’t. I did ask, but he says a man gets used to them after a while and then can’t sleep without them.”

“Well, then, they sound a bit dangerous.”

For a few moments they stood looking up at the clear sky, where the Snowy Road glittered and the bright stars hung like candles in a vast lantern. By the sky’s light Branoic could distinguish the dark shapes of the tents, spread out through the silent camp, and beyond them the supply wagons.

“Excuse me, Your Highness,” Branoic said. “I’ll just be taking a look round back, like.”

Maryn nodded his permission. Branoic glanced this way and that as he strolled around the tent, found nothing, then paused for a moment. He had a clear view, between two straight rows of tents, of the tethered horses in the distant meadow. Something—someone—was moving among them. Several someones, and he saw a glint of light that might have come from a knife. Branoic yelled the alarum at the top of his lungs.

“Guards! Wake up! Raiders!”

He kept screaming until he could see and hear others rousing. Since his first duty lay with the prince, he started round the tent only to find Maryn coming to meet him and buckling on his sword belt as he moved.

“Let’s go!” Maryn was laughing. “We’ll spread the alarum!”

They both drew their weapons, then ran, yelling like banshees through the camp. By then they were part of a mob, men half-dressed and half-awake, waving swords as they rushed to defend their mounts. Out in the meadow they found chaos. Panicked horses raced away, trailing cut tether ropes, whilst others reared neighing as they tried to pull their tethers and run. Over the general noise Branoic heard one he recognized all too well.

“Armed men riding!” he bellowed. “Ware!”

In the dodgy light he could see mounted riders turning off the road. They charged across the meadow straight for the