Liran paced the yard outside the stables. The evening was deepening into twilight but it wasn't time to leave yet. A group of his companions stepped into the light in the centre of the yard.
"My Lord, we are here and ready," said Silan, a short man with the broad shoulders of a swordsman.
"I hope you all got some rest," he replied as he scanned the group. They looked tired and grim. "They should be bringing out some fresh horses shortly,"" he added.
"I hope they will be able to find a decent one for you, My Lord," Silan said. "Kaldene mounts aren't bred for size, I'm afraid."
Liran shrugged. It would be a problem. It was always a problem. He came too seldom to Kalad for them to keep a horse just for his visits.
A boy exited the stable bringing two horses to them. Liran took their reins and looked them over.
"Help yourselves, gentlemen," he said, holding out the leads in their direction. He would have to wait for a larger horse since neither of these was especially tall. The boy returned to the stable.
Liran heard, "Freak...should never have been born..." as the boy disappeared from view into the shadows of the doorway. ""...son of a hairy Mundatar..." another voice added, coming from the same direction. Liran sighed. It was always like this when he visited Kalad.
"Perhaps we should complain about the stable hands' comments? They should never treat you that way, My Lord," Silan said.
"I won't win any friends if they get flogged, though. Just let it be." He had learned long ago to accept that not everyone saw he as the man he was.
"Don't listen to them, My Lord, we would never call your sire's people by such a filthy name. The trillas are our brothers, even though they live much shorter lives.""
Liran gripped his friend's shoulder in gratitude. At least the hilliri of Castillon had come to accept his mixed blood.
Out of the shadows by the nearest building, a woman stepped out into the light. She was tall for the hilliri. She moved gracefully, her golden hair swept back and held high on her head, her long gown swirling about her feet as she walked. She held out her arms as she drew near.
"Father!" she called.
Liran blinked. "Jaline!" He hardly recognized his own daughter. He drew her into the circle of his arms and held her close. She was warm and real in this strange night. He stepped back to look at her.
"I'm sorry I wasn't at court earlier. I just returned from a party at a friend's house. I heard everything though, and you mustn't worry. The Captain will look after everything. Joran will be safe."
"What have you done to your hair, my dear?" he asked, ignoring her chatter.
"Oh, this?" Jaline stroked the side of her head. "I was just experimenting. I thought it might help people accept me better.""
He laughed, forgetting for a moment about his cares. He hadn't thought of this particular tactic, but he knew the struggle well: how to be accepted by the hilliri as a trillas half-breed. Jaline had hair as dark as his own, but had managed to lighten it to something closer to hilliri norms.
He cupped her face in his hands as she looked up at him.
"Your eyebrows too?" he asked, seeing that they were also golden. She could lighten her hair, but she couldn't hide her bright blue eyes and the black lashes that framed them. He kissed her forehead and released her.
"I'm glad you're here and safe. I don't know what I would do if anything happened to you too," he said.
"Nothing is going to happen. I told you, the Captain will look after everything."
Jaline took his hand and led him aside. The other men were receiving their mounts. There were still none available of adequate size for his use.
"I don't think they have a horse big enough for me," he told her.
"They have bigger horses, they are just being difficult. Let me see what I can do for you." She turned and headed into the stable.
While he waited, the woman he had seen in court standing at his mother's side appeared in the yard. She was tall, golden-haired with a touch of red, and dressed in plain travel clothes. She was carrying several bundles which she set on the ground. It was strange to see one of the trillas here in the heart of the largest hilliri kingdom, and stranger still to see one employed in the palace.
"My Lord, have you and your people taken refreshment and rest? We can leave momentarily." Her bow was so slight Liran wondered if she counted herself nearly his equal. He decided not to let it bother him; other slights had been received this night, and more would, no doubt, be offered before he left. He was used to the murmurings of the judgemental.
"The others have rested," he answered, trying to suppress his annoyance. "I, however, cannot rest until I see my son safe and my home liberated."" He took several paces, turned and walked back again. "I am waiting for the Captain who the Queen has assigned to assist me. Can you tell me, will he be here soon?"
An eyebrow raised on the trillas woman as she crossed her arms.
"I am the Captain, My Lord. The others will be here shortly."
"You can't be serious," he blurted out. She was much too young to be an officer of any rank.
The woman didn't flinch. A group of hilliri men and women gathered around her. They all wore faded clothes and did not appear to be carrying weapons. Liran counted only ten.
"Are these all the people we are bringing? And where are their weapons and uniforms? They look more like thugs than guardsmen."
The young woman continued to look unfazed.
"Queen Liriel stated that we should not be mistaken for an invading force. Our weapons are stowed securely in the saddlebags. We shall go under cover of darkness and without uniforms to avoid being detected," she replied.
More horses were being brought out to the group of guards. Everyone was stowing gear, and Liran did see, to his relief, a number of weapons being tucked away.
"Surely Rainna will have scouts looking out for your return. One of your companions said that she has about forty people with her, is that correct?" the Captain asked.
A tall black stallion with two white socks was led out to her. She took his reins and patted his nose. The animal danced about, tossing his head and swishing his tail. She spoke softly to him and he settled as she packed the saddlebags and checked the straps.
"There were at least forty," Liran began. "They were spread all over the fortress when we were forced out. I don't see how less than twenty of us can overthrow them, let alone ensure my son's safety. We simply need more people."
"More people will only slow us down. We need to move swiftly. I expect Rainna will assume you are coming with a force of soldiers from Kalad, not a..." she nodded her head to the side, indicating her group. "...a motley group of travellers. The invaders have the secure ground. We can only succeed with surprise, not force. We leave at once. Will you and your men be joining us?"
"Need you ask?" he replied, feeling irritable. He turned to signal his men to depart. It was clear that this woman wasn't going to change her mind, and he didn''t want to wait any longer.
"I still need a fresh horse, though," he said.
"I believe Lady Jaline has found a suitable one, My Lord."
She was looking over his shoulder to the stable. He turned to see Jaline holding the reins of a great Grey beast of a horse who kneaded the earth in front of the stable door. It snorted loudly, a signal that was returned by the Captain's leggy stallion.
With a sigh of relief, Liran stepped onto a block and swung his leg over the Grey's back. He smoothed his worn cloak around him and took hold of the reins. He touched Jaline's hand as he rode by on his way towards the gate. He waited by the entrance for the others to get in line. The Captain rode up and came around to face him. She touched his sleeve.
"We will rescue your son, My Lord," she said, speaking low enough that only he might hear.
She urged her horse forward, and the others fell in line behind her. She lifted her hood up over her bright hair and seemed to fade into the shadows. They made their way out of the palace grounds and out onto the river road that headed south toward the great sea and Castillon, his home. The sky had darkened to a blue-black mantle flecked with the light of a thousand stars.
____________________________________________
I hope you enjoyed this instalment of Unsheathed. If you did, please consider voting so that it has a chance to receive some more attention by rising up the ranks in the Fantasy category. I also enjoy comments, so please feel free to let me know what you thought.
Cheers!
Rebecca