Fire And Ice (Book 1) (19 page)

             
“No.”

             
He could tell she was pleased by his answer.  “Then you might say that you find the prospect appealing?”             

             
It was his turn to remain silent.  She was trying to get him to say something, but he couldn’t tell if she was teasing him or being serious.  The truth was that he had been avoiding thinking about it, because he had no idea what he wanted.  He knew that he cared for her a great deal, that was something he could not deny.  Seeing her here in the moonlight he was prepared to admit that his feelings might go beyond that, but was it love that he felt?

             
As his eyes became locked with hers, the question she had asked him was forgotten.  Once again he was caught in her gaze, only this time he could not look away.  He felt like he was under some spell, unable to break the contact, unable to think of anything else.  He found himself with his hands on her arms, and hers on his, without remembering his moving closer.  His heart beat faster as he lowered his head towards hers, intent on her lips.  She leaned forward to meet his.

             
“Oh,” said a startled voice.  Coran straightened quickly and took a step back from his princess.  “Sorry,” Alys told them.  He could tell it was more for Katelyn than him.              

“What is it?” Katelyn asked her pointedly.  By the look on her face Alys had better have a good reason for interrupting her.

              “The King wishes to make a toast.  He requests the presence of the tournament champion and the Lady of Spring.  I told him I would find you.”

             
Some of the irritation went out of Katelyn’s expression.  “Very well,” she huffed.  “I suppose we should go back if the King wants us.”

             
Coran followed the two young ladies back into the hall.  As they entered, Katelyn went off with Alys.  Devon saw Coran and came over to stand beside him.  As usual, Devon had a drink in hand.  Two actually, since he held one of the finely crafted mugs out to Coran.

             
“You look like you could use this.”

             
“Why do you say that?” Coran asked as he took the mug, then tilted the container to check the contents.  Ale. 

             
“With your face flushed like that, you look like you just ran a mile.”

             
Coran downed the bitter brew in two swallows.  “It was nothing,” he said, feeling a little calmer, putting the mug down among some trays of food on a nearby table.

             
“Then we won’t talk about it.”  Devon let him be.  He waved to a server carrying a pitcher who hurried over, careful not to bump any of the guests.  Devon held out his mug to be refilled and pointed to Coran’s to be filled as well, then handed it back to his friend.  “We will get drunk instead.”

             
Coran took the mug and stared at the dark liquid.  It had been a long time since he had gotten good and drunk.  Devon was there that time too as he remembered it.  “Why not?”

               Katelyn spotted a wine filled glass on a table next to an attendant, whose job it was to keep the glasses full, and picked one of them up.  She took a large swallow, then lowered the glass from her mouth.

             
“I am sorry,” Alys told her, looking upset.

             
It took a moment for Katelyn to realize that her friend was afraid she might be angry with her.  “It is not your fault.  Really.”

             
“Good,” Alys said, relieved.  “So, how did it go.  The part before I got there.”

             
“Nothing interesting happened,” she replied trying to hide her disappointment. 

             
They stopped talking as Robert called for silence in a commanding voice.                  

Chapter 11

Under the Trees

             
Big, puffy, white clouds lazily sailed across a background of deep, blue sky.  It was a perfect color of blue for a perfectly warm, spring day.  Their escort, under the command of Loras, was already mounted and waiting in perfectly ordered columns of two.  The white coach bearing the sun of Summerhall had its door open and an attendant standing by to assist any would be occupants to enter.

             
Another group of horsemen stood assembled in another area in front of the palace.  Lord Onatel was mounted on a big gray.  His own escort surrounded the Lord and the smaller carriage that bore his wife.  Before they passed through the palace gates Onatel stopped briefly before Coran and bowed from the saddle more deeply than he had before.  The Lord’s brown eyes met his and he knew it was not an idol gesture.  Coran was left to wonder at the deference shown towards him.  Was Onatel becoming a bit unhinged from his thoughts of the future, or was he wiser than anyone knew?  Coran prayed it was the former.  If it was the latter then that meant war was near, and the world would only suffer for it.

             
Coran wore his traditional black.  The black overshirt worn over his armor bore the silver hawk of Tyelin.  He took the reins of his black horse, a gift that was the result of some negotiations between Katelyn and King Robert, and swung himself up, and into the saddle.  He was pleased with the new horse.  It was an exceptional animal, one of the very best of the stock from Leanesse.  Katelyn’s own gain from the mysterious exchange was tied to the back of the coach.  Her mount was also black and at least as good as his own. 

             
He waited while his newly betrothed said her good-byes to her hosts.  Coran already said his before coming outside.  Robert and his wife had been kind towards him, Rob, friendly and open, offering his hopes that they would meet again soon.  Willa had been a bit distant and he was reminded to ask Katelyn about that.  Last night he had gotten distracted from his question regarding her.  He nearly blushed at the thought of what had distracted him. 

             
Everyone was finally ready to go and they set off for home.  Coran rode directly behind the coach along with Devon.  Katelyn could be heard giving her opinion of riding in a coach when there was a more than decent horse available, as they passed through the streets.  There were not many people about.  Most had been up late in celebration.  The few he did see were somber as they returned to their normal daily activities after a day or two of merriment.  He was forced to agree with Onatel on the emotional condition of the people.

             
Once again he tried to ascertain what the older Lord had meant.  Part of it he understood.  Some people would look to themselves first and try to protect their families and personal interests out of fear.  Others would look for leadership wherever they could find it out of the same fear.  What would make one react differently than the other?  It was impossible to know for a certainty.  Would those who were trained to fight look for a military leader who would give them a chance at victory?  For most. perhaps, but not all.  There were some he had known that he would not trust to do the right thing even if it was in their own best interests.  He also knew that there were people with no training who would fight until their last breath.  The blacksmith at Tyelin came to mind as did many others among the mountain folk.  He had to shake his head at the futility of trying to understand human nature.

             
“Problem?” Devon asked from the saddle of his light gray horse.  Devon wore the same rumpled brown shirt and pants he had arrived in. 

             
“No.”  As soon as he said it he knew it was untrue.  It was a problem.  “Not really.  I was just thinking on the differences in people.  Why some react differently than others.”              

“That is a little deep for me.  Especially this early in the day.”  Devon grabbed a canteen from behind his saddle and drank deeply.

              “Thirsty?”

             
“Not really.  Want some?”  The blonde man held it out to his friend.

             
“Is that wine?”

             
“Yes.  It helps with headaches.”

             
“And will just give you some more,” Coran pointed out.

             
Devon shrugged.  “I will worry about later, later.  Right now I have a headache.”  He held out the container.  “Want some?”

             
Coran was not exactly at his best.  He didn’t have as much to drink as his blond friend, but he was definitely feeling a little sluggish, and the sun was a bit brighter than he remembered.  He reached out and took the canteen from Devon’s hand. 

              The second night they stayed at the Westland outpost just inside the Gaen Woods and started out early the next morning.  As they rode between the ancient trees, Coran continued at his place behind the coach.  He was still somewhat unsure about his relationship with Katelyn.  After the other night he feared it might become awkward between them, again, but it was exactly the opposite.  He could not explain the way all his worries disappeared when she was around.  He even started hoping that they might have an opportunity to finish their private discussion that had been interrupted by Alys, but being on the road gave them little in the way of opportunities. 

             
That afternoon the clouds thickened, which made the gloominess of the woods more pronounced.  They were about a league from the outpost maintained by the forces of the Plain when Coran felt a sudden chill.  It was not the chill one feels from cold, but rather from the sense of being watched.  He scanned the deep woods along both sides of the road.  There was no sign of any watchers, but he noticed the lack of birds chirping or taking wing at their passage.  He could not hear or see any signs of wildlife at all.  Quickly, he increased the pace of his mount and rode to the front of the party, where Loras was staring straight ahead, oblivious to anything around him.

             
Coran silently cursed the man’s inattentive behavior.  “Captain,” he called to the leader of the escort.

             
Loras glanced at him casually.  “What is it?”

             
“Have you put any scouts out?”

             
“Why should I?” the man snorted.  “This is Westland, not Karand.  No one is going to attack us here.”

             
“Then why don’t you tell me what you hear.  Listen.”

             
Loras turned his head first one way and then the other.  Finally he shook it.  “I don’t hear anything.  What is your point?”

             
“Exactly that.  There are no noises.  No birds, nothing moving through the underbrush.  Someone is out there.”

             
“Next you will be jumping at shadows,” Loras snorted again.

             
Coran could feel his temper rising.  Loras had always seemed the capable sort before.  He never would have made captain otherwise so his indifference was surprising and more than a little annoying.  “Send out scouts at once, and have the men ready.”

             
The Captain was not happy at being given orders from someone half his age.  “I am in charge here.  You can’t order me about.”              

             
“You may be in charge of the escort, but I am responsible for the safety of the Princess.”  He did not raise his voice, but his resolve on the matter was clear.  Loras appeared a little less sure, but he was not yet ready to back down.  “Would you care to question the Princess as to what you should do?”

             
That finally decided the man.  He had to know what her decision would be.  Loras reluctantly turned his mount and rode back along the column issuing orders.  Coran slowed his horse and waited to fall back in line next to Devon, and behind the coach.

             
“Loras doesn’t look very happy,” his blonde friend commented.             

             
“I had to override his authority,” Coran replied.  “Keep an eye out.”  He explained his suspicions and Devon instantly went on the alert.  Coran urged his mount up next to the open carriage window.  “Katelyn?”

             
“What is it?  Miss me already?” she teased him.

             
“Always, but right now I wanted to tell you to be careful.  I think there are men in the trees.”

             
She looked past him into the woods beyond.  “Will there be an attack?”

             
“An attack?”  The startled question came from Alys sitting by the opposite window.

             
“I am not sure, but if anyone tries we will be ready.”

             
Loras rode up and pushed his mount between Coran and the white gilded coach.  “Your orders have been carried out, my Lord,” he said full of sarcasm. 

             
“Captain!”  Katelyn’s voice held an authority that seemed instinctive to those born to lead.  “Is there a problem?  Are you having difficulty fulfilling your duties?”

             
“No, your Highness,” Loras answered with difficulty.  The words sounded dragged out of him.              

“When it comes to making decisions on my safety,” she continued, “Lord Coran speaks for me.  Is that clear enough or should I speak to my father on our return and find you a less arduous duty.”

              “I understand your Highness.”  He heeled his horse forward.

             
“Captain,” Coran called to him before he was out of earshot.  “If we are attacked, how will your men respond?”  He hoped the ‘your men’ might give the man back a little dignity.

             
If it did he didn’t sound like it.  “The front column will rush the trees.  The rear will form up around the coach and escort it clear of the area.”

             
“Thank you, Captain.”

             
Katelyn waited until Loras had ridden away.  “I do not understand it.  He has not been the same since we arrived in Westhaven.  He never needed to be reminded of his duty before.”

             
“We can ask him later.  I am going to the front.  Maybe I will be able to see something.”

             
“Be careful,” she called to him as he followed after Loras.

              Naras pulled the strung bow from where it had been tied to his saddle bag by a piece of leather.  He looked down the low hill trying to see the road through the trees.  He listened carefully and the sound of hooves clopping on dirt could be heard.  They were almost here.

             
“This won’t work,” Urik stated from behind him.  The big man held the reins to their horses.  “You told them the gold was guarded by a dozen at most.  When they see how many there really are they won’t attack.”

             
“They don’t have a choice,” Naras told him as he watched.  “A couple of arrows in their direction and those guards will be the ones attacking.” 

Urik scratched his thick beard as he struggled with the thought.  “Then why did you bring them at all?”

              Naras laughed.  “They are going to keep the guards busy while we get away.”  The clip-clopping was getting closer.  He took an arrow from the quiver that hung from his saddlebow and knocked it.

             
“I thought we had to mark the Coran guy.  You won’t be able to hit him from here.”

             
“I’m not the one who is going to mark him.  I’m just here to provide the distraction.”  Horses appeared on the road at last.  “Get ready,” he whispered.  “And keep quiet.”  He waited for the coach at the middle of the column to be perpendicular with him and the road.  He drew back the string as far as it would go, and raised the tip as high as he dared.  If the arrow stayed straight he thought there was enough of an opening for it to clear the branches of the trees.  He released and the arrow flew from sight.  He knocked a second and released.  Then a third.  Shouts could be heard and the sound of men and horses crashing through trees.  “Time to go,” he said, and fitted action to words.  He mounted quickly, not bothering to replace the bow, and the two of them rode away as fast as they dared in the thickness of the forest.

              The silence seemed to stretch out time.  Coran could hear every step of the horses on the dirt packed road, the jingle of many harnesses and the occasional snort.  One of the men coughed and it sounded unnatural in the eerie silence of the surrounding woods.   A movement caught his eye, but when he looked there was nothing.  Maybe he was being paranoid.  He hoped that he was.

             
A light thump sounded from somewhere and someone called out.  “Archers!”  Another man cried out in pain.  “Aeeeiiiiiii!”              

             
Loras drew his sword.  “Front forward!  Into the trees!”