Minstrel's Serenade (15 page)

“Don’t thank me yet.” He pulled her against him, breathing in the scent of her hair as he nuzzled his nose against her cheek.

Danika backed away. This was hardly the time for romance. “Do your best.”

“I always play my best.” He slipped his lute from his back to his arms and strummed a harsh, dissonant chord sounding more like a random tangle of notes. “This has never been done before. Not by me or any other minstrel. Cover your ears.”

Danika stood back, pulling Nip away from the minstrel. She placed Nip’s hands over his ears, then blocked hers. Through her palms and the beating of her own heart, a low growling hum resonated deep within Valorian’s throat. The primal drone stirred acid in her gut. His voice rang more like a warning than a song, and the rocks reverberated around them, struck like tuning forks to the vibrations of sound. He strummed so hard, drips of blood leaked down the wood of his lute to the cavern floor.

The rubble shook, and a few rocks shattered, flinging dust and pebbles at their faces. Danika turned her back, shielding Nip with her body. She shouted at his hand-covered ear. “Close your eyes.”

More rocks shattered, pelting debris at her back. Danika huddled with Nip, still covering her ears and wondered just what she’d asked the minstrel to accomplish. Explosions erupted behind her, and she squeezed her eyes shut, afraid slivers of stone would embed in her pupils, blinding her. The onslaught lasted for several minutes, until she held her breath and released it again. Valorian’s voice trailed off into a howl, and the blasts stopped.

Danika turned around and opened her eyes, squinting against the dust. Valorian lay on his back, unconscious. Slivers of stone had cut gashes in his face, and the tips of his fingers were red with blood. The strings on his lute had broken and curled. Beyond him, a hand protruded from a mound of dirt, thick fingers with callouses so large it could only be Bron’s.

Danika ran to the mound and pushed the dirt off. Bron’s face surfaced, his eyes closed. “Bron!” She slapped his cheek. No response. “Bron, wake up.”

Nip took the warrior’s hand and held the palm to his heart. Tears rolled down the boy’s face, muddying the dust on his cheeks.

Had she lost them both? Too greedy to leave one behind?

“No!” Danika pounded on his chest. “No, you cannot leave me.”

Bron sucked in a gasping breath and stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. “My lady?”

Danika laughed and cried at the same time, laying her head on his chest. “You’re alive.”

He sat up and brushed the dirt from his arms. “Why shouldn’t I be?”

“The hydra.” Nip pointed to the dead head. “It caved the ceiling in. You were covered in rubble.”

“Yes. I seem to remember something of the sort.” Bron rubbed his head. “It would explain the pain behind my eyes and the reason my throat is full of dirt.”

Bron met the princess’ gaze, as if seeing her for the first time in years. “How did you find me?”

“Valorian. He saved your life.”

Nip tugged on her arm, and they turned to the minstrel, still lying unconscious in the dust.

“Helena’s Heaven!” Danika ran to his side, pained with guilt. How quickly she’d forgotten him. He’d risked his life and his lute for her. She pressed her fingers to his neck. A faint pulse answered her pleas.

Danika dabbed at his bloodied cheeks. “Help me lift him.”

Nip scurried behind and helped Danika prop him against a boulder. His eyelids flickered and his gaze rested beyond Danika, to Bron. “You’re alive.” His usually melodic voice was wispy and hoarse.

“Thanks to you.” Bron offered his hand and pulled Valorian up. “My apologies, Minstrel. I’ve underestimated your power and your heart. I owe you a life debt.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” Valorian bent and picked up his lute. He inspected the broken strings with skeptical eyes. “I did it because the princess asked me to.”

Danika avoided Bron’s gaze. What would he think of her now? Using another man’s love to keep him alive? She’d had no choice.

“Which makes you a better man than I’d initially thought.” Bron clapped him on the back as Danika bandaged Valorian’s fingers. “Someone the princess can rely on and trust.”

Danika listened to their conversation carefully as she tied the scraps of fabric in knots around Valorian’s knuckles. Did this mean Bron would think Valorian worthy of her hand? She had no idea how to digest that thought.

“You saved our lives by fighting that beast.” Valorian leveled his eyes with Bron’s. “Which makes you a braver man than I’d initially thought.”

“So we’re even then?” Bron stepped forward, offering his hand once again, this time for a truce.

“Even as the horizon on a clear day.” Valorian took Bron’s hand and they shook, a gesture Danika never thought would happen. Unease stirred in her stomach. She’d become used to them fighting over her, and suddenly she felt outnumbered.

An Honorable Name

Bron followed Danika, Valorian and Nip deeper into the mountain despite the weakening flame of their single torch. They could not go back from whence they came and their need for the metal drove them forward. Ironically, the only way out was delving further down. Hauling the rice behind him, he replayed the fight with the hydra over and over in his head.

How had he lost control?

Valorian’s skill had saved him, and the significance of that life debt, whether Valorian swore it off or not, weighed on his soul. Any honorable man would stand by it. Which meant he could never have Danika.

Not that he’d had a chance with her anyway.

To steal the bride of the man he’d bonded to in life debt would curse the gods and spit on their graves, throwing away every ideal they’d given their lives for. Bron was not a lesser man.

“There’s light up ahead.” Nip’s voice echoed down the tunnel, waking Bron from his musings. The warrior increased his pace.

The tunnel narrowed and the walls became hard granite, explaining why the hydra couldn’t tunnel farther to plague the underground denizens of the mountain. The walls glowed up ahead with a faint white light, akin to moonshine. Nip ran back to him, holding up a wiggling glowworm he’d pulled from the ground. “Look!”

The worm curved its thick body in a ball in the palm of Nip’s hand. Nip scrunched his nose. “What’s it doing?”

“Self-defense.” Bron picked the worm from Nip’s hand and placed it on a ledge in the wall. The sections of its body spread out again and the worm crawled away. “We’ll learn more about defense tactics later, when your training starts.” Bron resumed his heave and the cart creaked forward.

“Hopefully you’ll teach me better tactics than that.” Nip followed him like a puppy.

“Simplicity is sometimes the better way.” Bron smiled. Teaching him would prove satisfying.
If
they got out of this hellhole alive.

Danika and Valorian stopped up ahead. They no longer had the luxury of Valorian’s lute to lull their enemies to sleep, so they had to tread cautiously. Bron caught up and dropped the rope tied to the cart by his feet, resting his arm. “What is it?”

Danika put her finger to her lips and whispered, “Voices.”

Bron held his breath. Down the tunnel muffled voices spoke a language he’d only heard when the monks recited ancient text at temple. “It is indeed the albinos. They speak in the old tongue.”

“Wonderful.” Danika rolled her eyes. “Valorian, I don’t suppose you speak it?”

“A small amount.” His face was stoic, now slightly scarred by the flecks of stone. The markings gave him more character.

Danika furrowed her eyebrows. “Can you tell them we come in peace?”

Valorian absently stroked the place where the strings used to lay on his lute with his bandaged fingers. “I’ll certainly try.”

Danika shot a look to Bron and then his claymore. He nodded once. If it came to it, he’d unsheathe the blade before the pale faces could blink a half-blind eye. They continued forward, rounding a corner where several hunched, robed figures collected glowworms in baskets. The figures straightened.

Danika nudged Valorian. “If you can say anything, now would be the time.”

Valorian cleared his throat and raised his hand, spreading his fingers. “
Dotheth cuman innan frio niman
.”

The figures whispered among themselves then scurried away, leaving their baskets. Bron let his hand hover over the hilt. His senses heightened, like on the eve of battle.

Danika clasped her hand on Valorian’s arm. “What did you say?”

“What you told me to say.” Valorian seemed overly defensive, like a husband blaming his wife.

Bron stepped forward. “Nip, stay back and guard the rice.”

“Hold on.” Danika placed a weighty hand on Bron’s chest. “A fully-armed warrior is not the finest diplomat.”

“I wasn’t thinking of negotiations.”

“My point exactly.” Danika slipped by him, taking the lead. “I’m not afraid of these albinos. Follow me.”

The tunnel widened to a ledge overlooking a city of small, earth-packed huts, streetlamps filled with squiggling glowworms, cobblestone walkways and hooded figures. A long, winding stairway led to the bottom of the valley, where a pool of water glowed. A semicircle of hooded figures waited at the bottom. Bron saw no weapons, but that didn’t mean they didn’t have them.

He resisted the urge to shout commands. He wasn’t the one making decisions. “Shall we descend, Princess?”

Danika rested her hand in the crook of Valorian’s arm. “Yes. Valorian will present me.” She cast Bron a meaningful look. “Guard my back.”

“As always, Princess.”

Lugging the cart of rice down the narrow stairs was not easy. One misplaced step in the dim light would have him and the cart sprawling down the steps in an undignified heap, leaving the whole party vulnerable. Nip took up the rear and kept a solid hand on the top pack of rice. If they proved hostile, the cart could be used as a projectile, allowing them time to escape.

They reached the bottom landing, and the princess and Valorian stepped forward. Bron resisted the urge to hold the hilt of his sword. Mustn’t look menacing or Danika would scold him.

One of the hooded figures stepped forward. As he held his head up, the hood fell back and a hairless, rodent-like face came into view. Blue veins laced through pale skin. His eyes were wide and oval shaped, with no pupils, only darkness. Thick whiskers twitched around his toothy mouth.

“Greetings, surface dwellers.”

Valorian stepped forward. “You speak our language?”

“At times.” The albino folded his hands in front of him, and Bron relaxed his tense stance. Threading one’s hands was far from the gesture of any warrior.

Valorian gestured toward the bags of rice. “We come in peace, to trade in the name of...” He looked to Nip.

“Alhearn Blueborough,” Nip announced, surprising Bron with such a sophisticated name. Then, Bron realized he shouldn’t be surprised at all. He had an honorable name for an honorable man. Someday Nip would claim the family title and make his father, and Bron, proud.

“Indeed, no ignoble man, falsifier or thief could pass through the caverns above alive. Only a truly courageous heart can find its way once the darkness sets in and the reaper starts claiming souls.”

Bron crossed his arms. It was old superstition to leave such judgments to fate. “If you are speaking of the hydra, ’tis dead. The tunnel has caved in.”

The rodent-like man smiled. “The hydra is just one of many, as is the tunnel. Though, they all lead here.”

Danika gave Bron a warning glance as if to say, “
Stay out of kingdom relations
.” Bron bowed his head, not wanting to cause trouble. This was why warriors weren’t diplomats.

She offered the rat man her hand. “I’m Princess Danika of Ebonvale. This is Prince Valorian of the House of Song. Behind me stands my bodyguard and the Chief of Arms, Bron Thoridian, along with Alhearn Blueborough’s son, Nip.”

“Nathaniel,” Nip spoke up. “My real name’s Nathaniel.”

Danika assessed Nip with a new respect. “May I correct myself: Nathaniel Blueborough. We seek a certain metal alloy to aid us in our campaign against the wyverns, for a massive She-Beast rises, as we speak, to blight our lands. We’ve brought rice to trade.”

The rat-man placed long white fingers in her hand. “Oster Snipple at your service, Princess. I know Alhearn. I’m afraid to ask why he didn’t join you.”

Danika’s voice grew strong as steel. “For the same reason we’re here. The wyverns leveled Shaletown. Nip is all that’s left.”

Oster’s whiskers drooped and he held his white hand over his heart. “I’m sorry to hear that. Alhearn saved one of our elders while the elder completed a crucial mission. He also visited our city, bringing us delicacies from the surface. Alhearn has gone down in our history books as a hero.”

Bron placed a hand on Nip’s shoulder and squeezed. He whispered, “You should be proud of your father.”

Oster waved to the others around him to assist Bron with the rice. “Come, let me offer you some accommodations. It looks as though you’ve had a rough journey.”

They followed the rat-man through town, passing fields where workers farmed glowing coral rising in giant fanlike shapes. Lizards the size of dogs slithered against the rails of fenced coops, and small children stopped and stared as if the travelers were the ones who looked strange. Nip gaped right back at them and Bron had to pull him away to keep pace with the others. “Don’t stare. It brings attention to your fears.”

“They’re staring at me.”

“Because they fear you. Walk tall, look forward and show them you have no fear.”

Nip seemed placated by Bron’s wisdom. He straightened and took his place at the warrior’s side.

Oster lead them to an earth-packed hut, larger than the rest, in the center of town. “This is the meeting house, where we gather to make decisions concerning the entire community.”

The inside had a ring of roughly woven pillows in the center, where Oster had them sit.

He gestured to Nip. “Your father joined us in this very place, telling us stories of the world above.”

Nip nodded. His chin shook and he wiped his eyes.