Minstrel's Serenade (7 page)

“Why isn’t the music working?” Danika shouted into Bron’s ear. The kobold opened a jaw as wide as his forehead and roared, showing rows of uneven, square teeth.

Bron sighed and leaped up, brandishing his sword to block the princess. “Too dumb to understand?”

“No, look!” Danika pointed to the monster’s head. Thick, pink membranes grew over malformed ears. “He’s deaf.”

Bron swiped his sword and the beast matched his arc with the axe. The weapons clanged, sending sparks through the night like falling stars. Bron’s muscles bunched as he held the axe in place. “Just my luck.”

Valorian widened his eyes, and Danika waved him behind her. “Keep singing. Hold the others back.” She’d handle this.

As Bron pushed his sword against the axe’s weight, Danika rounded the kobold and stuck her long sword in its back. The monster wailed and lashed out, sending her flying against the carriage. The force of the fall knocked the wind out of her. Her head hit the carriage wheel and rang with dizziness. The kobold reached behind, trying to dislodge Danika’s long sword like a splinter in a slab of meat. The distraction gave Bron the opportunity to lunge with his sword and slice a gash in the kobold’s left leg.

The carriage door squeaked open and Nip thrust his hand out. He whispered, “Come inside.”

“No.” She had to help Bron and keep the monster from reaching Valorian. If he stopped singing the others would flood the clearing and there’d be no trip to Darkenbite. She held up her palm. “Stay there.”

When Danika looked back, the kobold had pinned Bron on the ground with his fist and tried to stomp the warrior to death. Bron rolled from its grip, jabbing his sword whenever he had the chance. Each lunge made a superficial cut at best. Valorian kept singing, his fingers turning red as he strummed the metal strings of the lute over and over.

Danika took a deep breath, stood and leaped toward her sword. She grabbed the hilt and hung from the monster’s back like a rag doll as the beast waddled back and forth, dancing on top of Bron. A thin dribble of purple black liquid dripped from the cut.

Danika braced her feet against the monster’s back and pulled. The sword wouldn’t budge.

Behind her, Valorian’s words nudged her memory.

“Bestow a gift to the bearer

At the most opportune time.

Out of care, and something more

An ivory relic that once was mine.”

Valorian’s dagger! Danika swung herself into the air, head over heels. Her feet landed on the blade of her sword. She waved her arms to balance and shuffled toward the monster’s back. Grabbing onto the thick hair, she climbed toward its neck.

The odor choked her and she gagged, her stomach threatening to spew the remnants of Valorian’s sweet peaches on the creature’s back. One thought of Bron flat as a coin hardened her will, and she scrambled down her boot for the dagger. She unsheathed the blade and held it in the air, contemplating the right spot on the wart-infested neck. She’d only get one chance.

Danika drove the tip through the back of the creature’s neck, puncturing its wind pipe. The kobold wheezed and its shoulders heaved. Danika held onto the hair on his back as he fell to his knees and then his stomach, sending a crashing thump through the forest, louder than any falling tree. When the echo subsided, only Valorian’s melancholy song filled the silence.

Danika pulled herself up from the hairy back. “Bron?” Her voice shook with worry.

“Here.” The warrior stood with blood running down one of his arms. He offered his hand. “An impressive feat for a lady.”

Danika slipped her hand into his as if it should rest there for all time. “I had a good teacher.”

“And a great weapon supplier as well.” He leaned down and pulled Valorian’s dagger from the beast’s neck. Bron studied the markings of the House of Song before handing the dagger to her, ivory hilt first.

She felt like such a betrayer. Danika took the hilt and slid the blade back into her boot. He was her bodyguard, dammit, not her suitor.

A shaft whizzed through the air behind them and Valorian’s music abruptly stopped in mid-sentence. Danika whirled around just as Valorian and his lute hit the ground, a feathered arrow lodged in his shoulder.

No, no, no. The gods would not allow it...

She ran to Valorian’s side, her heart thumping wildly.

Bron stood in front of them alone, a barrier of muscle, and held up his sword. The forest stirred around them as the beasts awoke from the spell.

Valorian clutched the shaft with his good hand. The arrow had torn his richly embroidered riding vest and stuck right into the muscle. Thank Helena the tip hadn’t struck his lung.

Danika placed both her hands on the wound and pressed against the flow of blood. “Hold still. Don’t move.”

He grasped her hand with his bloodied fingers. Branches creaked in the darkness. A wiry kobold, no bigger than Nip, stepped into the clearing. A sly grin spread through his pasty lips. Bark and pine needles stuck out of his ears.
Clever bastard.

The kobold fired again, at Bron, and the warrior deflected the arrow like a chicken leg at dinnertime. Laughter erupted from the shadows as the kobold’s friends slowly woke up.

Danika gazed down at Valorian and his eyes watered with pain, yet held a determination she hadn’t seen before. “I have to sing.”

Just as Valorian began a ring of kobolds entered the clearing. Some stood three heads taller than Bron, and others only came up to his knees. They wore patches of leather around their groins and various-sized teeth around their necks. Some had one horn, whereas others had two or three sprouting from their heads like defiant fingers.

The horses whinnied, gazing skittishly around them. The lead pair pulled on their harnesses. Thunderhooves snorted with unease. Danika glanced at the carriage. Would Nip stay put?

“Red streaks adorn

The starling’s breast.

As he flies the twilight skies,

You think you’ve won

Oh, foul hunter

But the game has just begun.”

Valorian’s voice, although still sweet, shook from pain, and there were no chords to support it. Valorian’s voice fell to a whisper on the second verse. The kobolds hesitated long enough for Bron to get a good swipe then pounced on him in a horde. The warrior pulled them off, one after another, flinging their broken bodies into the forest. For every kobold he tore down, another three came at him. They bit his legs, jabbed at his eyes and climbed up his back, scratching his bald head.

Behind her, they climbed on the horses. Thunderhooves reared, kicking two with his front hooves, but another three took their place, this time holding sharp daggers.

Danika’s heart tore in two. If she left Valorian he’d bleed to death, but if she stayed, the sheer number of kobolds would overwhelm Bron.

Either way, their mission had failed. The kingdom would fall to the fires of the She-Beast, and man would no longer reign in this world.

The call of a low horn echoed over the battle in a long, primal swell, tearing the bottom from Danika’s heart. She’d know that sound anywhere. The call belonged to the dead army of Sill.

The kobolds stopped at once, their ears perked to the sky. Bron kicked the closest ones away and scanned the trees.

Danika had thought the night couldn’t get any worse. Fate had misled her.

The horn blew again as if answering everyone’s question in an ugly bleat. The kobolds cried and scampered into the forest, leaving them alone in the clearing. The wind picked up, sending boughs creaking and pine needles rustling as if the forest breathed in anticipation.

Bron turned to Danika with sorrow in his eyes. A thousand stolen glances could not deliver the pain and longing in that one gaze meant only for her.

Danika mouthed the words, unable to speak. “It cannot be.”

Woman of the Forest

The woods parted and a single figure in a tattered ebony robe strode into the clearing with purposeful steps. Danika’s heart climbed to her throat and she swallowed her fear, reminding herself Ebonvale’s army had defeated the necromancer king in a campaign lasting all of her preteen years. Her father had died preventing the dead from walking in the land of the living. Had the king perished in vain?

No festering army followed the figure as it claimed the center of the circle, placing a long, knobbed staff into the earth with a black, gloved hand no bigger than Danika’s. The figure raised an arm, tan as treated leather, from the folds of fabric and spread an upturned palm, the universal gesture showing he or she meant no harm. Blood pulsed in the veins running down the arm, and the skin, though wrinkled from the sun, was unbroken and not infected. This was no leader of the dead.

Yet, Danika spotted the bone horn hanging from the figure’s neck on a thick chord of twined human hair. A skull with horns on either side had been carved into the bell, the crest of Sill.

Bron glanced at Danika with a questioning gaze. He tapped his fingers on the claymore’s hilt.

This figure had saved their lives. They would be worse than the kobolds if they attacked.

No. They owed this specter a life debt. Danika shook her head. Bron lowered the tip of his sword, and a single drip of black blood oozed to the ground.

The figure threw back its hood. Wayward, windblown blond hair streaked with white frizzled outward in a halo around a foxlike face wearied by wrinkles and time. One eye, green as the forest in mid-summer’s sun, stared back at them with curiosity. White film covered the other eye in a thick, cloudy cataract. Wrinkles webbed across her once beautiful face and age spots mottled every inch of her skin.

Danika blinked in disbelief.

Impossible.

If time had sped thirty years in the future, she’d be staring at herself.

It couldn’t be. She’d left for Jamal with her minstrel lover.
Danika still had the letter, scribbled in hasty strokes, apologizing and bidding farewell. Yet, only one woman possessed a horn of the dead, given to her by her husband after he’d won the first battle with the army of Sill.

Bron dropped to his knees. He bowed his head before the old woman, reaffirming what Danika knew in the crux of her heart. “My Queen.”

“Bronford Thoridian of Oaten’s Dell.” The former queen of Ebonvale placed a hand on his shoulder. “A brave and lionhearted man you’ve turned out to be.”

Her gaze roamed to Danika, the sparkling green eye watery with melancholy. “My dear daughter, you are more glorious than I ever imagined.”

Anger, hatred, guilt and regret poured into Danika’s soul in a foul brew. She could hardly bear to ask her runaway mother for assistance. However, Valorian lay beneath her hands with an ashen face laced in sweat.

“Please.” Danika took in a shaky breath. “We need your aid.”

The former queen glanced at Valorian and her green eye grew dark and hard as flagstone. She scanned the shivering woods. “You’re lucky you wandered into my hunting snares.” She reached underneath a mossy log and pulled a dead hare from a trap. “They’ll return in larger numbers. If you want to live, come with me.”

Danika nodded to Bron. “Let’s get moving.”

She tied her scarf around the minstrel’s shoulder in a sling, then rose to survey the damage. Two of the horses lay on patches of blood-stained pine needles, their throats cut. Danika’s heart dropped as she recognized one of them as Thunderhooves. Hadn’t Nip lost enough?

Bron stood beside her making the sign of Helena’s sword. “They fought bravely.”

Danika turned away from the bloody sight. “Make sure the boy does not see this.”

“He’s too smart for his own good.” Bron shook his head and pulled a jagged, hilted dagger from the horse’s flank. He studied the serrated blade with disgust and threw it into the woods. “He’ll know soon enough.”

Danika grabbed his arm. “Please. Not now.”

Bron nodded. “So be it.” He lifted the tree from the carriage and Nip’s round face peered out the glass window. The warrior blocked the view of the dead horses with his massive waist.

Thank Helena Bron had a soft side. Danika stood and wiped the blood from her hands on her riding pants. Bron held his hand to the carriage window. “Stay in there. We must get Valorian to safety.”

“Is everyone safe?” Nip peered around him, and Danika moved to block the view.

“Valorian needs your help.” Bron placed his hand on the door so Nip wouldn’t open it. “Stay there and we’ll bring him in.” An edge of authority cut through his voice, strong enough to keep the boy inside.

Bron helped Danika lift the minstrel from the ground and to the carriage. They opened the door and carried him to the velvet seat next to Nip.

“Will he be secure?” She placed her hand on Valorian’s forehead. His skin burned hot as fire.

Bron nodded and returned to the rice bags, stacking them on top of the carriage. “I’ll make certain to ride carefully and avoid bumps, if I can.”

“Hold this tightly.” Danika took Nip’s hand and placed his palm on Valorian’s wound. “Do not let go.”

Nip nodded as he stared at the blood blossoming through the fabric with wide eyes.

She moved to close the carriage door. Valorian caught her hand with his own, his metallic eyes lucid. “My Princess.”

She was not his princess, but he’d risked his life for their cause, and may soon lose it. “Yes?”

“You fought bravely.”

“As did you.” She froze, locking her gaze with his. The words from his song came back to her. He’d given her that dagger
out of care and something more.
What did he mean by something more?
If he died, she’d never know.

Valorian released his hold on her wrist. He smoothed his fingers over her silken scarf wrapped around his chest. “Thank you, Danika.”

“’Twas the least I could do for saving all our lives.” Danika placed her hand over his and squeezed. She’d underestimated his strength and the power of his music.

Bron cleared his throat behind her and Danika pulled away and closed the door. She mounted her horse. Bron had secured Valorian’s horse in place of the carriage horse they’d lost. Her mother stared at her from the center of the clearing, wistfulness etched in the fine wrinkles around her mouth.