Chronicles of sword and.., p.7
Chronicles of Sword and Fang, page 7
Burchard spoke carefully, knowing that if his father didn’t believe him, he would likely get put in the stocks or whipped, or worst case, both. “Yes, he ordered Squire Ruschmann and me to leave the gear and for the group to continue on its way.”
“Were you aware that gear critical to the outcome of the fight was left on the road?” the General demanded.
“No, sir. When the bags were given to us to carry, we were not informed of their contents. The orders Sir Windemere and Sir Tiniel gave us were to obey any orders given, whether by Colonel Frost or one of the other knights. To my knowledge, we followed the orders explicitly,” Burchard explained.
“Very well. I will confirm what you have said with Colonel Frost.” The General turned on his heel and walked down the hallway, the cadence of his boots echoing on the stone long after he was out of sight.
Burchard let out his breath. Whew, that was close. He turned slowly back toward the dining hall and his breakfast.
The two squires and their knight masters fell back into their training routine over the next two days. Hand-to-hand combat, sword work, and archery in the mornings with mounted practice in the afternoons.
On the third day, a rather cold and dreary morning, Sir Peter walked up to both squires as they were heading out of the barracks toward the training yard. “Change of plans for today. The General wants the two of you to go on an overnight scouting assignment to check out the area to the northeast.”
“Northeast? But the rebels are in the northwest,” protested Burchard.
Sir Peter held up his hands. “I am just relaying the orders.”
“Which squad are we going with?” Ruschmann asked.
Sir Peter shook his head. “You’re not going with a squad. It will be just the two of you. No one else is available.”
Burchard gazed at his knight master in uncertainty. “Where are you going to be?” The General had been sending him and Ruschmann to do occasional scouting with other knights, but never by themselves. He wondered what had happened to make the General change his tactics.
Sir Peter sighed deeply before answering. “I am going on patrol with two squads. I will be gone for a full week. When you return, Sir Daniel should be able to take over your training, Burchard.”
Burchard nodded in understanding. “OK. Is there anything in particular we are supposed to be looking for?”
“The General mentioned that there have been whispers of something happening in the northeast also. I don’t think he believes the whispers, but he wanted to be certain since the king sent an inquiry specifically asking about the northeast,” Sir Peter explained. “But as far as anything in particular, I would just recommend being prepared to encounter bandits. If there is evidence of any movement in that area, make note of it and include it in your report. You need to leave before dawn tomorrow morning.”
“Very well. I will go start packing, then,” Burchard said with a bow.
9
Early the next morning, in the pearly gray light just before dawn in the Alderth Castle courtyard, Burchard tied his last bag onto Chip’s saddle. Running through his list in his head, he was certain he had remembered everything that was important. If it hadn’t made it on the list, then it mustn’t be important enough for this scouting trip.
Ruschmann glanced up at him from tying his last bag as well. “You ready?”
Burchard grinned. “Yep.”
The yard was just beginning to wake up. The cook’s rooster crowed, followed by soft nickers of the horses in the stables and the bleats of the goats. Burchard glanced around and then swung his leg up into the saddle. Guiding Chip with his legs, he urged her into a brisk walk out the side gate.
They rode in companionable silence till the sounds of the waking castle were no longer audible.
“I think we’re chasing ghosts,” Burchard said, starting to relax.
Ruschmann shrugged. “Ghosts or real people, at least we get out of the castle for a few days. Our first assignment on our own. We better not mess it up.”
Burchard chuckled darkly. “I don’t think I’ve ever tried to mess up any of our assignments. The General just doesn’t always appreciate what I do.”
“This should be easy. Take notes if we find any evidence of rebels or bandits in the northeast. We are only supposed to be gone for one night, so we go as far northeast as we can in one day, camp, and then ride back,” Ruschmann said.
“Well…sort of.” Burchard thrust a scroll at Ruschmann.
“What is this?” Ruschmann asked, taking the scroll. He dropped his reins and unrolled it. It was a rough map, showing Alderth Castle and the area surrounding it, plus a blue line that was almost a circle.
“That is the route we’re taking,” Burchard explained.
“I thought we were just going to the northeast,” Ruschmann muttered.
“We are. But Sir Peter thought it would be more thorough if we did a circle and covered more ground than just a straight line there and back. My father was not very specific; therefore, Sir Peter took it upon himself to ensure we would provide as much useful information as we could upon our return. We are not traveling for any longer than before. Just not quite to the same place. Trust me. This is a good plan,” Burchard said.
“I do trust you. But how do you know we are even going the correct direction? This is a circle drawn in the middle of the forest,” Ruschmann questioned.
Burchard sighed. Sometimes his friend was really dense. “If you looked at the drawing at all you would see that we go through Radvall Mill, Leosor Hollows, and then Camp Tooth. There are some marked paths between them. Although I think when we go by the mill and the hollows, we probably want to stay off the path.”
Ruschmann peered at the map again, finally seeming to notice the very tiny words that named the places mentioned. “Aha, whoever made this seems to think everyone expects words to always be that tiny. I didn’t even notice the words when I first looked.”
“OK, now that we have established we both know where we’re going, would you like to get there faster than a walk?” Burchard inquired.
Ruschmann grinned and kicked his horse into a canter, quickly leaving Burchard and Chip behind. Chip didn’t need any encouragement. She eagerly picked up the pace until both squires were riding stride for stride in a ground-covering canter.
When they were within a mile of Radvall Mill, Burchard and Ruschmann slowed their pace and slipped off the well-worn path they had been following. Radvall Mill was a small village, although calling it a village was probably too generous. There were three families that managed the lumber operation. They did business when they had to with Alderth Castle, filling the quarterly orders; otherwise, they discouraged anyone from the castle from visiting.
Burchard was not overly concerned that they would get attacked, but he also didn’t want any complaints to get back to the General that the families at the mill were being harassed by two squires. Giving Radvall Mill a wide berth was in everyone’s best interest. The trees they passed were young, but the older trees had been harvested—several years ago, from the look of it. Burchard knew that much like farming, a strategy was involved in harvesting lumber to ensure that the forest could continue to provide for many years to come. He had seen areas around Wolfensberger Castle that had been completely cleared, and they were not growing back as expected. In theory, it didn’t matter. Since Wolfensberger Castle’s two villages were used primarily for growing crops, including hay for livestock, additional cleared land was useful for expanding the fields.
Burchard let out his breath when they crossed into denser forest and could no longer see Radvall Mill. He glanced over at Ruschmann and saw that his friend was also relaxing now that they had passed the mill. They grinned at each other, when suddenly their horses lurched to a stop. Lucky for them, their practice riding sessions with Sir Peter meant their bodies were better trained to maintain their balance on the horses, even when startled.
A large man with bright red hair and a beard stood before them, carrying an ax on his shoulder. “What is your business at Radvall Mill?” he asked roughly.
Burchard cleared his throat before replying. “Just passing through, sir.”
The man gave both squires a thorough examination before replying. “It looks as though you must be headed somewhere. Squires are not usually sent to the mill.”
Before Burchard could respond, Ruschmann blurted out, “We’re on a scouting assignment.”
Burchard stifled his groan. From the looks of the man in front of him and the questions, he seemed to be one of the mill’s residents, but Burchard couldn’t be sure. He’d never been to the mill before. Which meant they would be obliged to make note of the encounter in their report. Telling everyone they came across they were on a scouting mission was certain to cause them trouble, especially once word got out that they were just two squires traveling alone.
“A scouting assignment?” said the man, although it was clear he was talking to himself. His eyes seemed to be focused on the horses, not on the squires.
Twigs cracked, and another man appeared seemingly from nowhere, although Burchard was sure he just had been too focused on the first one to remember to pay attention to anyone else trying to sneak up on them.
“Sean, what are you doing?” growled the new man, who looked very similar to the other one—in fact, almost identical. With a pointed glance at the squires, he turned his back to them, blocking their view of the first man.
“Seth,” Sean replied. “I was just finishing up with the last tree on this side, and I heard these two squires jabbering. Figured I’d see who was trying to sneak through our forest.”
With Seth’s back to Burchard, it was difficult for him to see how Sean’s explanation had affected him. He spared a peek at Ruschmann, who shrugged. Burchard tried to remain patient, but he was itching to get on their way.
“I see,” replied Seth, before stepping to the side and turning around to face Burchard and Ruschmann. “Is there a particular reason you lot are sneaking around our forest instead of coming through the village?”
Burchard decided he should reply before the encounter escalated. “Sir,” he said with a bow from his saddle. “We were not assigned any business with Radvall Mill and decided it would be…” He paused, searching for the right word. He wasn’t sure saying he thought it would be quicker to avoid the village would be wise. “The most direct route to our destination is going through the edge of your lands, which is what we were doing before we came across Sir Sean.” Burchard decided treating them with respectful formality would likely be the best course of action.
Sean studied Burchard for a few moments without responding, then reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. “It is fortunate you came this way. I presume you will be returning to Alderth Castle?”
Burchard nodded in confirmation.
“Good. I have this letter for General Wolfensberger. It is regarding the next lumber order. If you can deliver it to him, that would help immensely.” Sean stepped close to Burchard and offered him the letter before stepping back just in time to miss Chip’s attempt to bite his arm.
“Sorry,” muttered Burchard. He tucked the letter into his front saddlebag.
“Don’t worry about the horse. I have been known to bite strangers when they got that close too,” Sean said with a grin. “Oh, and just in case the General wants to know who gave you that letter to be sure it’s official and whatnot, I’m Sean Radvall and this here,” he said with a wave at Seth, “is my twin, Seth Radvall. Our uncle Samuel Radvall runs the mill.” Sean took another step back toward his brother. “We need to get back to work before we lose what’s left of the light. I’m not sure where you’re headed, but I would not go up to the hollows if you were planning to. Some bad business is happening in that area, and no one I’ve sent up there has come back.”
Burchard bit his tongue, preventing something stupid from spilling out. Taking a deep breath, he said, “Thank you, sir. We appreciate the warning. I will keep your letter safe and see that it is delivered.”
Before Burchard could say anything else, both Sean and Seth Radvall melted back into the trees without a trace.
He shared a look of bewilderment with Ruschmann. “Let’s go.” Clucking, he urged Chip into a trot, eager to get out of the forest belonging to Radvall Mill.
10
After riding for about an hour in silence, Burchard couldn’t stand it anymore. He just needed to say what was on his mind. “Sean Radvall…he mentioned bad things happening at ‘the hollows.’ Do you think he’s referring to Leosor Hollows or somewhere else?”
“You have the map. Can’t you check it?” Ruschmann pointed out.
“I have the map memorized. There aren’t any other places labeled ‘hollows,’ but who knows if what the locals name things is what the king names them. I also have no idea how current the map I have is,” Burchard responded.
He watched as Ruschmann picked at a twig in his horse’s red mane. “What is going on with you and Lady Gladys?”
Burchard felt his face heat up. “What do you mean?’ He kept his eyes focused on the trees in front of him.
“Well, she spent a lot of time at your bedside when you were injured, and I’ve seen the looks you share at times,” Ruschmann teased.
“We’re just friends,” Burchard said defensively.
Ruschmann snorted. “Does she know that’s how you feel?”
Burchard tipped his head to the side so he could look at Ruschmann. “No. Or I mean, I don’t think so. It’s not like we go around talking about our feelings.”
“Perhaps you should before she gets the wrong idea and you break her heart,” Ruschmann said loudly.
Burchard sighed. “We’re fourteen. I’m not going to break her heart. Besides, when did you become so knowledgeable about girls?”
“You and I spent a year apart last year. Sir Daniel and I had a chance to go up to Port Riverdale, which is a larger city than Ironhaven is at Burmstone Palace. I met lots of different people,” Ruschmann said and got a misty look in his eyes.
“What you’re saying is that you have a girl waiting for you at Port Riverdale?” Burchard asked in disbelief.
Ruschmann nodded. “Yes.”
“Do you realize how silly that sounds? We both belong to noble houses, which means our marriages are likely to be arranged. Why bother getting involved with anyone like that when you know what’s certain to be in your future?” Burchard demanded.
Ruschmann shrugged. “What’s wrong with living the way I want while I still have a chance to? We are only granted one life, Burchard. I don’t want to realize one day that I could have had a better one if only I’d lived it for me, not for someone else’s agenda.”
Burchard nibbled on the inside of his lip, contemplating Ruschmann’s words. His friend wasn’t wrong. In some ways, what Ruschmann was suggesting was already what he was doing. Standing up for what he felt was right, even if his father disagreed.
They rode in silence for a while, the fall light starting to fade and casting deep shadows around the trees. Burchard was pretty sure they could reach Leosor Hollows before it got completely dark.
Shadows were growing long, making it difficult to see the details of the forest surrounding them. Burchard heard a noise, and Chip paused in response to the subtle shifts he made in the saddle. He drew his sword and swung just in time as a large great horned owl flew right over his head, talons out. With the close proximity of the owl to his head, the swing missed, but the owl screeched while banking and came back for another pass. Before the owl could reach him, an arrow grazed his cheek, causing him to almost drop his sword in surprise. Growling, he swiped his left hand at his face and it came back covered in blood.
He adjusted his hand around his sword, wondering where on earth Ruschmann was. He was just behind me a few moments ago. The owl came back for a third pass. This time Burchard put both hands on his sword, preparing to strike and take it out once and for all. As the owl swooped down, he began moving his sword in an arc, when a sharp pain pierced his arm and his sword fell from his hand. Glancing down, Burchard realized there was an arrow sticking out of his arm. Who are these people attacking us? He saw the barest outline of a cloaked figure standing next to a large oak with a longbow drawn and another arrow aimed right for him. At this distance, whoever it was would have to be an absolutely terrible shot to miss him, even with minimal light.
The owl abruptly flared its wings and glided to the branch above the stranger. Its dark golden eyes followed his every movement.
“Why are you here?” the stranger said.
At precisely the same time, Burchard growled, “If you’re going to shoot again, just get it over with.”
The stranger’s hood fell back. Based on the voice, Burchard thought it was a young woman, but the minimal light made it difficult to discern much else. Her long hair flowed over her shoulders, no longer hidden by the hood.
“The owl was just informing you that we were here and you drew your sword first. I was only defending myself,” she said in a surprisingly musical voice.
“Your owl was going for the kill. It is my right to defend myself,” Burchard said, straightening in the saddle. With his left arm dangling at his side, the arrow protruding from it, he could feel the blood dripping down his fingers and onto the leaf-covered forest floor.
She tilted her head, considering him, before giving a sharp whistle. Another figure came out from a rock outcropping, pushing Ruschmann before them at sword point. I wonder where Cricket went.
“You are trespassing,” the figure said in a deep male-sounding voice.
“This is King Roland’s land. I am a squire of Etria; therefore, I am not trespassing,” Burchard said quietly, keeping his focus on the woman with the bow.
