Damsel Knight (12 page)

Neven is harder to hear approach. It's good that all those days playing knights and soldiers together paid off. She hears him well enough though when a muffled yelp of pain comes from the tree-line. He hit a tree. So maybe playing knights and soldiers didn't completely pay off.

She's tempted to urge them to move on quickly before Timon comes. Neven would never forgive her though. And she'd never forgive herself. They had promised. A good man keeps his word. To break it, would be to break his honour.

That doesn't mean she has to like it.

They organise quickly once Timon comes running. Alice holds onto Bonnie's belt. Neven holds onto the back of Alice's pack, and Neven argues for Timon to lead the way.

"He's the only one who can see in the dark," he says. "Alice knows how find out direction from where moss grows on the trees. She can tell him what to look for, and if we need more guidance we can find a clearing and look at the stars. I know enough to give us a basic heading."

"Unless he leads us the wrong way," Bonnie says. Having the dead boy along is one thing. Having him lead them is another. "Don't forget he's the son of the witch we're running from. The one who lied about Alice to our faces."

"Alice trusts him, so I think we should trust him," Neven says as if that's the only thing that matters. "If it'll make you feel better we can stop at every clearing so I can check we're going the right way."

Bonnie fumes, but she knows they can't have this argument now. She removes her sword from its scabbard, taking comfort in its reassuring weight. "Fine, but hurry up. We need to cover as much ground as we can before daylight comes."

Their progress is too slow for her liking, but that's as much her fault as it is theirs. The forest seems to work against them, putting trees in random configurations, and roots ready to trip them up. After the first few bad scrapes, Timon starts pointing out when they're about to hit something, but that doesn't always stop it from happening.

Alice is particularly awkward. Bonnie had noticed it before, when they'd walked through the woods with the dragon, now in darkness it's even worse. She trips on every root, stone, and uneven ground that comes their way. Her feet don't seem to know how to cope with the small rises they come across, or winding through the trees.

It's not her fault, Bonnie reminds herself. She'd spent three years inside on flat polished floors. And even before that the palace wasn't a good place to learn how to hike through forests. From what she had heard the royal family hardly ever left the palace walls, and never out of the city. The streets in King’s City are paved and mostly serviceable - the areas a high born would go are at least. The nearest you get to forests around King’s City are the neatly tended apple orchards.

Timon carries his chill with him, and his rippling darkness. It serves to remind Bonnie of the other things in this forest other than witches. They need to keep going, get out of reach of magic and monsters.

An hour into their walk, Bonnie hands her shield and shoulder harness to Neven and heaves Alice onto her back. The head of height the princess has on her makes it a little ungainly, but not impossible. All things considered they weigh more or less the same. She keeps the sword hanging from one hand.

Timon's a swaggering teenager when he cocks his head, and melts before their eyes into a chubby three year old. "Mama?" He asks the darkness, before taking a wobbling step in that direction.

"Timon," Alice snaps from over Bonnie's shoulder. "Please don't leave."

Timon turns his big dark eyes on them, full of confusion. "But Mama's calling me."

"You said you want to go with us," Bonnie says firmly. "You have to decide. Her or us."

Timon looks like she’s told him he has to choose between losing his heart or his head. Maybe she has. Parents are the world to a child. She’s never felt as strongly for her mother as her father, but she loved her all the same. It’s what children do.

“You,” he says finally, sounding as if the words were wrenched deep from his throat with effort. His eyes shine with tears as his form ages a year or two, losing some of the baby fat. “I want to go with you. I’ve been here too long.”

“Then make sure we don’t go near her,” she says. “If she catches us we’ll all have to go back to that shed.” Or worse, but she doesn’t voice that part. Anxieties are high enough as it is. Even she can see that they don’t need stirring up further.

He nods glumly and continues on. She still only has his word that he’s leading them the right way, but there’s not much she can do about that. Underneath the thick canopy of trees in this moonless night, without him they would be making little to no progress. Not without lighting torches at least, and that would require making a fire which they don’t have the time nor safety to do.

No. They’ll continue walking until morning, and then however many more hours they can manage. Tomorrow night they’ll risk a fire. They should be far enough away by then, even for magic.

Her legs burn, but the pain in her fingers and wrists is down to a dull ache. She tries to be grateful for that. It’s her shoulders that worry her. Holding the sword means she only has the one arm to loop around one of Alice’s legs to lift her weight. It’s not enough, as her shoulders are making clear. White hot pokers press between her shoulder blades and to the small of her back. She could ask Neven to hold the sword, she guesses, even Alice, but she doesn’t want to. It’s her sword, and the seconds it would take to get it back if they’re ambushed scares her.

She’s just about to ask Neven to take a turn carrying Alice when she hears it. Footsteps heavy enough to make the ground shake, and the long scraping sound of scales against trees. A noise carries through the forest that would be a questioning mew were the animal the size of a cat, but being roughly the size of a castle it reverberates around them as a bellow.

Gelert.

Bonnie’s heart leaps in her chest, light with joy. She had worried she’d never see him again. And part of her had hoped she wouldn’t, because if she saw him again eventually she’d have to -

She mentally shakes her head. Of course she’ll have to kill him. He killed her parents. It’s only right, and if she does then Neven can marry his true love and never want for anything. She can be a knight. It’s the end of a perfect fairytale, with her as the hero.

But she doesn’t have to kill him just yet. They still need to get out of the forest, and as long as Gelert is still under his spell he can help with that. The lost ones had to lure them away from him before they attacked them. There will be more creatures before they leave. Gelert can keep them away.

“Did you hear?” She asks, letting herself give into the excitement.

“Sir Dragon,” Alice whispers behind her. The princess tightens her hold about her shoulders into a semi hug. For once Bonnie doesn’t mind. “I heard. I heard!”

“I don’t-” Neven starts behind them, sounding doubtful.

“This way,” Bonnie says, cutting him off. She doesn’t have time for another argument about how the dragon is dangerous and they should stay away from him. This whole forest is dangerous. She’ll take a known danger over an unknown one any day, and at least Gelert doesn’t hide his nature like the witch tried to.

She walks fast through the darkness, past Timon. The dead boy blinks, then trots next to her, pointing out a tree before she crashes into it. Her legs complain, as does her shoulders and still pounding head. She doesn’t care because soon they’ll be back with Gelert. Maybe they can figure out some way of steering him, then they can ride him. Resting on his warm scales sounds very inviting right now after travelling in Timon’s pocket of cold so long.

“Boone stop.” Neven crashes through the forest behind her.

“Boone?” Timon jogs beside her, struggling to keep up with his little legs. She doesn’t know why he can’t just turn himself bigger. A teenage Timon would keep a better pace. “Are you sure this is right?”

Bonnie hesitates a moment, then continues on faster. The dragon’s right up ahead. He’s a beacon of safety in this dark world, even if Neven doesn’t see that. He’ll be glad once he’s tucked up on Gelert’s warm back. Timon will too once he sees how loyal Gelert is - how he’ll keep them safe.

The thud of the dragon’s footsteps echoes all around them, but somehow her ears know which way to turn. Just ahead. She catches a flash of red scale through the dark trees. There. A clearing.

“Gelert I-” She stops in her tracks. The clearing is empty, nothing but dark below a slightly less dark sky. The noise cut off the moment she stepped foot through the trees, as if it never existed.

She scans the black, looking for a trace of red scales. Free from the thick trees, it’s possible to see Timon’s curtain. It slides in and out of existence as it had this whole journey. Yet even when it fizzes out she sees no red.

It’s impossible. He’d been right there. She’d seen him. A shudder of unease passes through her, like a lightning bolt. But, how had she seen him? She glances at her sword, the dark metal even darker. There are no colours here. They’ve leeched out of the world. Gelert’s scales should’ve been grey, not bright red.

It wasn’t Gelert.

She swings around just as Neven comes running out of the trees, barely visible in the dim light. “It’s not-”

“I know,” she says quickly. She turns to Timon who drifts between five and ten years old with a rapidity that makes her dizzy. “What do we do to fight the lost ones?”

“I don’t know.” His form shrinks to five years old and stays there. His voice trembles. “Mama always kept me away from them. The lost ones feed on energy, and the spells she used on me are full of energy.”

Useless. Except that now Timon is as vulnerable as the rest of them.

“We stay together,” Neven says, closing a hand around the arm she’s not using to hold the sword. “I think they feed on us easier when we’re alone. That’s why they tried to separate us before. And fire. Fire keeps them away.”

She leads him back into the trees, moving fast. Her stomach churns uncomfortably, and her legs feel like white hot jelly. “We don’t have time to make any.”

“I …” she hears him swallow heavily, even with the pitch black of the trees closing around them. “I know a spell. I learnt it before we came here.”

It’s an effort not to trip over her own feet. Neven, her weedy Neven who cringes at thunderstorms and was afraid of the dark until he was twelve, learning magic. She’d always known he was fascinated by the physics of it, just like he’s fascinated of the physics of everything, but unauthorised practising of magic is a burning offence. Witches can slaughter whole villages with a single poorly spoken spell. They can cause plagues, even create magical creatures like dragons to terrorise thousands.

“It’s only a small spell, and some of the time it doesn’t work anyway,” Neven rambles on despite having to pause several times to draw breath. “It-I overheard some people in Porthdon arguing about how magic is supposed to work. It didn’t seem that difficult so I tried a few things, and it was that difficult, but I got one of them to work. You just have to think about what fire needs to light the normal way and then-”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” This isn’t the time for this. This is the time for running, fighting, not emotions. The only emotion you need in a fight is rage, and that you need sparingly. Yet she can’t help but ask. Neven had been her only friend for so long. It hurts that he didn’t trust her.

‘Not as much as it must have hurt him to know you were planning this revenge trip for so long, and hadn’t even told him what really happened to your parents,’ an uncomfortable voice in the back of her head says.

“It was before we met. I showed Ness and he told me to stop.” Even so out of breath, she can hear the pain hidden in his voice. “I did.”

It’s an avalanche of new information to take in. Neven figuring out magic on his own. Ness knowing about it. But when it comes down to it only one thing matters now. “What do you need?”

“A bit of everything you need to make a fire. Some good branches for torches. A flat surface, and thirty seconds. If it works.”

The thirty seconds and a flat surface would cost them, but she can’t argue against the results. Even her father could take twice as long to light a fire, and there’s no way it would be roaring hot enough to light torches without oil in less than twenty minutes. “We keep walking. We have to put as much distance between us and them as we can. Timon, help Neven gather what we need as we go. If we’re forced to stop then I’ll buy you your thirty seconds.”

How, she doesn’t know. Thirty seconds is a long time facing an enemy you have no defence against.

Five minutes later Neven freezes, his hands gripping her arm painfully tight. “I hear Ness.”

“Where?”

“Up ahead. Close. I see his shape.”

Timon, who had aged a couple of years, promptly drops back down to five years old. His dark eyes are wide with fear. She’s starting to think the moving between ages is involuntary. “Timon. Can you take us another way?”

“Yeah.” He gives a shaky nod. “This way.”

They make it only ten steps before Alice’s arms jump up, constricting Bonnie’s neck. “My Papa. He’s - he’s not my Papa, is he?”

Bonnie catches a glimpse of purple through the trees. A flash of gold. The figure passes behind a tree, stepping into view and stopping, as if it knows she’s watching and wants her to get a good look. King Robin wears the crown forged for him after he built the circle. It holds one hundred ruby stones, each one representing a guardian stone that makes up the circle. Each one is tiny, but together they make a gleaming whole.