The Druid Queen - Douglas Niles [61]
The resulting cry echoed from the walls of the castle, clearly audible even down in Corwell Town.
"Your king already rides," she continued, turning to look clearly at the cleric of Helm. "In the name of the goddess, go forth and restore the Balance! I name the Princess Alicia as your commander, the noble Sir Keane as her lieutenant."
"For the kings of Corwell!" shouted the men, their deep voices rumbling in unison as they chanted the ancient battle cry of the kingdom: "The kings of Corwell!"
Robyn lowered her gaze to rest upon her daughter's uplifted face. "Go now, Princess. Find the enemies of the goddess and bring them to the right!"
"Aye, my queen!" pledged Alicia, with a bow. In another moment, she sprang into her saddle, waiting as Keane and the cleric mounted somewhat more slowly.
"Forward!" she cried. A thumping song begun by a few veterans, rhythmic in tempo and nonsensical in verse, brought the men into a steady march. Alicia and the other riders circled the courtyard and passed through the gatehouse, followed by each rank of footmen in turn, after they clumped proudly past the queen's balcony.
"For the kings of Corwell!" Once again the battle cry echoed from the walls, ringing firmly as the column of men made its way through the gatehouse and onto the castle road.
Just as Alicia, mounted on her fleet mare Brittany, led the column from the gatehouse down the long, descending curve of the road, another rank of men hove into view, coming across the moor from the south. The princess was delighted to hold up the march until the newcomers, forty keen-eyed crossbowmen from Llyrath Forest, fell in at the end of the line. Despite an all-night march, the hearty woodsmen had no difficulty following the rest of the column.
Robyn stood alone in her window for several minutes after that, watching them start across the moors toward the northern highlands. She had given Alicia a map showing a good pass, hitherto known only to a few druids. It should allow them to reach the western shore of Myrloch by the second day out of Corwell.
"Well, they're gone. Now what do we do for excitement?" The voice, from the door of her chamber, whirled the queen around in shock, even as she realized that Deirdre had simply entered without knocking.
"You-you startled me," she said unnecessarily.
"Obviously," Deirdre said, walking into the room but staying away from the sunswept balcony. "There's quite a chill," she added, wrapping her arms around her ribs.
"I hadn't noticed." Robyn quickly stepped into the room and pulled the large double doors shut. "How are you feeling this morning?"
"I feel fine, Mother!" snapped the princess with a suggestion of her earlier vitality. "In fact, this place is starting to drive me crazy. I'd like to get out of here!"
"Go for a walk-perhaps even a ride," her mother suggested. "When the sun gets a little higher, it's sure to be a warm day."
Deirdre shook her head firmly. "No, not like that… not out with people. I want to get away… from…"
She didn't finish the thought. Instead, she rose abruptly and crossed to the door. She stopped, as if she wanted to say something more to the High Queen. But then she spun on her heel and quickly left the room.
* * * * *
The moorhounds coursed after a stag in full voice, wailing across the gentle ridgetop, down through the forested valleys, and into the tangled bottomlands and fens. Tristan spurred Shallot on, and the great war-horse thundered after the racing dogs, carrying the High King down a steep slope and plunging into the dense forest beyond.
Thorns tore at Tristan's leggings, and only his armor allowed him to bull his way through the ensnaring thickets. Hacking with his great sword, the king forced a path for himself and his struggling horse, until finally they broke onto a trail and thundered deeper into the wood, following the baying song of the hounds.
The hunt drew Tristan into its vital embrace, so much so that nothing else mattered. He felt the terror of the stag