CHAPTER THIRTEEN
OLD ENEMIES, NEW ALLIES
Tear-tracks marked her dusty cheeks, but Lady Nadoli's eyes were deadlier than ever.
For one instant, Hughell began to hope that she did not recognise him. His clothes were different after all; his whole stance and manner of walking had changed. A full beard covered his jaw, and although the reddish-blonde hairs were still a little sparse in places, he was a man now.
But after several, potent seconds he saw the realisation flash across her face, followed by a look of terrible conflict. He knew she had recognised him.
Without warning, Nadoli splashed into the stream and waded toward him, the blade stabbing the air in front of her as she came.
'Why are you here?' she asked, her voice frigid. 'Have you come to murder me, too? Or has your master sent you just to spy us out?'
She ducked sudenlt and lashed at the water, pelting a hail of droplets into his face and eyes.
Hughell flinched, then hurled the water-skin in return. His blade whipped free of its scabbard just in time to smack the first blow aside.
Not wasting an instant, she followed the first cut with another, straight towards his neck. Again, Hughell cast the stroke aside, though he felt the force of it and knew she was holding nothing back. He shifted backwards, spreading his feet in a defensive stance. 'Stop, Nadoli! I mean you no harm!'
'You lie!' but a shadow of doubt flickered across the woman's face. She gritted her teeth and plunged toward him, exploding into a hurricane of cuts and slices.
Hughell deflected each one without a falt, the training of the Prince fuelling his every move.
Sweat broke out across his forehead, but he refused to give ground. The stream was littered with treacherous stones and a single slip-up could cost him his life. But with each second the struggle was prolonged, he risked harming her as well.
The fight had to end. Now.
Hughell's blade lashed out to deflect a slice. Just then his opponent slipped, dropping her head toward the cut. As they drew apart, breathing hard, a lock of blonde hair drifted down.
Her eyes darted after it, widening with shock as she realized how close she had been to losing her neck, or her face, to the razor edge of his steel.
Before she could recover, Hughell dropped to his knees amid the stones. He held out his blade hilt-first, the sign on the pommel marking the air between them.
'I am here for one reason,' he said, 'and that is the grace of the Prince. You need not fear me.'
Nadoli's mouth opened. Her blade lowered, the tip slicing a groove in the water's surface. For one last moment, her face looked torn. Then her shoulders drooped and all the fight went out of her eyes.
'He got to you,' she said. 'I do not understand... how this can be.'
'I met Him,' said Hughell, simply. 'He saved me, though I did not deserve it.'
Nadoli looked at him for a long time, her eyes searching deep within his. Then she said, in a weak voice. 'I see it.'
Her hands shook as she sheathed her sword and turned and waded back toward the bank.
Hughell regained his feet and splashed after her. 'Please,' he said. 'I won't ask you to forgive me, only let me serve you, in whatever way you choose.'
'No!' Lady Nadoli stopped, her back to him, shocking him with the tone of her voice.
'I forgive you. What's more, I forgive the boy who caused such hurt those many months ago, although it can hardly be that you and he are the same person. It does not seem possible.'
She turned, a tiny, wondering smile playing at her lips. 'But then... that is the way of the Prince, isn't it?'
Hughell nodded, too full of words to speak. It was as though a heavy weight had been yanked from his shoulders and peace had stolen in to take its place.
She bent to pick up the water-skins and when she straightened he was moving towards her, his sword held out in a gesture of surrender. But he was stopped by a hard look.
'Don't. Only the Prince is worthy of that.'
Hughell slid the blade back into its sheath. 'I have learned that to serve others is to serve the Prince. There must be something I can do.'
He snatched the water-skins from her grip and knelt to dip them in the stream.
She watched him for a moment, deep in thought, then turned away. 'I must get back to my men.'
Hughell caught up with Nadoli at the edge of the camp and handed her one of the bulging water-skins.
She took it without saying anything, and he did not blame her, only wondered what myriad of thoughts must be going through her mind at that moment. What had led her to declare her forgivness, when for all these months she had surely remembered him with nothing but bitterness?
'Wait here,' was all she said, before stepping out from the cover of the undergrowth.
'There you are, Nadoli,' Karver looked up, relief plainly written on his face. 'I was starting to think something had happened to you. You didn't drown, did you?'
'Everything alright?' asked the pale, grave-faced man.
'Yes, aside from our present situation, and we cannot help that now.' After a sombre pause, Lady Nadoli cast an apprehensive look back towards the bushes.
'Gentlemen,' she said, 'we have an addition to our party.'
Both men sat straighter. A look of astonishment appeared on Karver's face, and the tall, pale knight's eyebrows lifted.
At Nadoli's signal, Hughell pushed the branches aside and started walking towards the encampment.
Karver studied the newcomer for a moment, then sprang to his feet and strode to meet Hughel, a boyish grin spreading across his cheeks.
'Welcome aboard, brother!' he said. 'Indeed you're most welcome. Any man of the Prince is a friend of m - hey!'
He recoiled violently, staring at Hughell as though he'd seen a snake. Each hand darted to one of his many knives.
'Lady Nadoli, do you know who this is?' and to Hughell: 'Hold it right there, or I'll stick a knife in you!'
Nadoli grabbed his elbow.
'I know who he is, Karver, and His past doesn't matter. His future belongs to the Prince as much as yours or mine.'
'But...' Karver looked from Nadoli to Hughell and back to Nadoli. 'But you...'
'The Prince has pardoned him,' she said. 'How could I do otherwise?'
She glanced toward Hughell and he returned the look intently, hoping she could could see the gratitude in his eyes. She swallowed and looked away.
'Well...' said Karver, 'I guess so. If you put it that way.' He extended his hand again, more slowly this time.
Hughell stepped forward to shake it and was surprised when the young knight accompanied the move with a pat on the shoulder.
'My name's Karver,' he said. 'Uh, sorry about all that before.'
'That's alright,' said Hughell. 'I can only imagine what you must have thought. I'm Hughell.'
A little awkwardly, he took a place in the circle and sat down across from the dour-faced knight.
After an awkward moment, he leaned over and reached his hand over the blackened stump. 'Hughell,' he offered.
The knight eyed him for a long moment, then reached out his left hand and gave it a limp squeeze. 'Attagood,' was all he said.
Hughell soon became aware that all three were looking at him expectantly, as if they were waiting for something. It dawned on him what they must be expecting.
'I have no word from the Prince,' he said, with a shake of his head. It pained him to let them down, but it was the truth. He shifted on the log, suddenly aware of how suspicious that sounded. If he had really been sent by the Prince Himself, wouldn't he at least have some instructions?
'Maybe if you told me what you're doing here? I'd like to be of some help to your purpose, if I could.'
Attagood snorted, then got up and stalked from the circle, hunching his shoulders deep within his cloak as he went. A saddlebag was lying on the ground near where the horses were tethered. The older knight squatted and set to work repacking its contents.
Nadoli leaned on her fist and stared into the cold, black remains of their fire. 'A terrible blight has entered Arrethtrae,' she said, 'and try as we might to contain it, it is spreading. Every year that goes by, Lucius's slaver-traders strike further into the kingdom. The Knights of the Prince have been on constant alert, but it is impossible to know where - and who - they will target next. Three weeks ago-' here Nadoli closed her eyes and swallowed 'three weeks ago we caught wind of an attack south of Cytra. A whole village was burned, the villagers taken. While we may not always know where the raiding parties plan to strike, we do know that many of them return through the Black Woods, by way of this road.' She gestured up into the trees.
Hughell leaned forward, gripping his knees. 'Why would they come here? It leads nowhere, only deeper into the forest.'
Nadoli's eyes hardened. 'These slavers do not go into the cities to sell their wares. Our scouts report they may have another destination, deep within the forest. A great forge, it is said, contained within a fortress. A factory for the weapons of darkness; the armoury of Lucius himself.'
Nadoli gritted her teeth. When she continued, her voice had grown heavy. 'The people that were taken from that village; we were meant to intercept them here, but our source was delayed and we were too late. They're gone.'
***
Ho there, noble reader-supporter. You have my thanks!
This story means a lot to me and the best is yet to come. I post new installments every Wednesday and Saturday, so if you've reached the end and want to know what happens next, don't worry! Chapter Fourteen is just around the bend!
Until then, stay brave. G.S.