Noble Falling (5 page)

I
HELD
my breath until an elderly woman peeked out into the dying daylight, straining to see the two figures before her. I purposefully stayed out of her line of sight, trying to delay any possibility of recognition.

“Whadaya want?” The woman’s eyes squinted further, and I could tell she was looking at me.

“I beg your pardon at the intrusion, but we are in need of a few supplies. We have no money, but we’re wondering if you’d be interested in trading?” Ori’s voice softened as he spoke, trying to dispel the fears of the woman who had noticed his sword and could not take her eyes off it.

“Depends, whatcha got?” The woman had relaxed, but not much.

I stepped forward, finally letting the woman fully see me. “This dress I am wearing is made of a fine silk you could sell for a few gold pieces, even though it is torn. It is yours for a replacement set of clothes and some food, if you can spare it.”

Her gaze shifted to me, completely forgetting the blade belted around Ori’s waist. “Men were looking for you two earlier today.” Her head bobbed up and down as though she had agreed to a question unheard by Ori or me. “Only said somethin’ about a man and younger girl travelin’ through. I can help the two of ya, but tell me why first.”

Ori provided an overly simplified account of what we had gone through, not giving away our true identities. He told the woman we had been ambushed by some bandits as we were on our way to the market. I knew his story was weak, and so did he, but we were both hoping it would work.

The woman cut Ori off before he stumbled over himself trying to provide a more solid story. “I didn’t trust the men earlier, armed to the teeth sayin’ they were merchants. Didn’t fit. Don’t know what ya did to upset ’em, but come in. I can help. My name’s Muerra.”

“Thank you kindly.” Ori smiled, then stepped back to allow me to enter the home first.

Soon, we were huddled over a small table in Muerra’s home, bowls of gray mush passing as oatmeal placed before us. I realized when the old woman was staring at me with a curious look on her face that I had not managed to forget my years of etiquette lessons, even while eating something so repulsive in appearance. I quickly began to eat in the most casual manner I could manage, letting my back droop and my arms actually touch the table. I ate as much as I could stomach, but the old woman shuffling around the room continued to throw a few strange looks my way. Eventually, she called me over to a trunk in the corner of her cramped house.

“Here now, these should fit well enough.” Muerra held up a simple linen underdress and a long tunic of reddish-brown color, “They were my girl’s. She was about your size. There’re some shoes too. Ya can try ’em, at least.”

I saw a glimmer of sadness pass through the woman’s eyes. I looked away, feeling oddly voyeuristic at seeing the pain etched on Muerra’s face as she thought of whatever misfortune her daughter had met. Not wanting to upset her further, I took the clothing without much more than a thank-you. The single-room house did not offer much privacy, but I opened a door to a large cabinet and used it to shield myself as I changed. After struggling to get out of my dress without help, I slid the commoner’s dress over my head. Finally emerging from the corner, I felt out of place, already itching from the rough fabric, but the dress was certainly more discreet than my own formal gowns.

Both Ori and Muerra turned to look at me once I closed the cabinet’s door. Though smiles were present on both faces, Muerra’s eyes still held the same haunted gleam. I tore my gaze from hers again, afraid she would see that same look of loss on my own face.

A moment later, after freeing the last strands of braiding from my hair and pulling it back into a more modest style, I spoke to Muerra. “I left the dress there on top of the trunk. As I said, you should be able to get a few gold pieces for it. Hopefully, that will cover the hospitality you have shown us.”

“Yes, yes.” The old woman glanced between me and Ori, her look of sadness replaced by something more mischievous and excited. “Now, Duchess, tell ol’ Muerra why you’re really here.”

As soon as the old woman used my title, Ori jumped to his feet and reached for his sword. Muerra cackled at his reaction, waving her hands to get him to relax. I sat frozen in shock, my heart racing as I begged my body to respond in any way.

“Why didn’t you say anything when we got here?” Ori kept his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Thought it best to show I was gonna help.” Muerra shrugged. “Bet ya would have run if I drew attention to the fact that the Duchess was standin’ at my door after men had been lookin’ for people like you. But, if yer gonna try and blend in, try losing those table manners, Yer Grace. And you, boy”—a gnarled finger shot out toward Ori—“you carry a sword marked with the Meloran crest on your hip. Meant yer either a guard or a deserter. Trouble will follow either way.”

“My name is Ori, guardsman for the Duchess Aleana Melora of Eniva.” The guard relaxed considerably and examined the hilt of his sword. “I thought it was better to carry around an identifiable blade rather than none.”

I stood, attempting to move past the moment of tension by extending my hand toward the old woman for the traditional royal greeting. As Muerra touched the backs of my fingers to her forehead, I finally offered an introduction.

“I am Duchess Aleana. We are thankful for your help, but I must wonder why you were so willing to offer your home to us.”

“I told ye before, I knew who ya were, Yer Grace.” Muerra looked at me with a warm glint in her eye. “Didn’ think it best to turn ya away. Make no mistake, I am honored to have ya standin’ in my house. Don’t suppose you’d tell me why those men were lookin’ for you and yer friend?”

“I….” I did owe her an explanation, but I really did not know if I could form the words to tell her everything I had lost so recently.

Ori stood beside me, placing his hand on my shoulder, and I silently thanked him when he picked up the retelling of the story.

“Traitors attacked our convoy alongside Dakmor’s soldiers. I was only able to pull the Duchess to safety because the soldier going after her was briefly distracted.”

Distracted. The word caught in my mind, pulling up memories of the attack and forcing me to re-watch Surea’s death. I swallowed the lump in my throat and struggled to keep my voice even as I addressed Muerra.

“Can you tell us anything about Eniva? Has the castle fallen?”

Muerra saw the tears forming in my eyes. “Oh, ya poor dear, you’ve certainly had a rough time, haven’t ya? I’ve heard nothin’ of Eniva, but I don’t keep up with the latest tavern chatter. You should know, though, yer welcome here as long as ya’d like.”

I managed to keep the tears from falling. “We should not stay long. But if we could sleep here, just for the night, it would be greatly appreciated.”

“Of course, of course.” Muerra began shuffling around the room again, pulling blankets out of places I did not even realized existed in her small home. “Milady, ye can sleep on my mat. It’s not the best, but it’s better than this dirt. Boy, you can sleep by the fire. You’ll be warm there. I can sleep on a bed of twigs, and this ground ain’t much better than that.”

Ori seemed content and began eyeing the space by the fire, most likely trying to decide how he could position his body around all the furniture in order to sleep comfortably. I eyed the small mat suspiciously, imagining what kind of vermin could be inhabiting it. Realizing the unease had spread across my face, I composed myself and took one of the blankets. Stretching myself out on the lumpy straw mattress, I was grateful it did not smell too much of mildew. At least it was better than another night spent on the hard ground with a blanket stitched together from rough burlap. It wasn’t entirely comfortable, but it was better than nothing. By the time I shut my eyes, Ori’s snores were already threatening my sleep.

“F
ORGIVE
me, but the less we tell you, the better.” Ori’s sword was already belted around his waist.

Muerra had wondered where we were going, but as Ori had told her, she did not need to know more than what she had already been told. It wasn’t a means to protect ourselves as much as a way to keep her safe should the Dakmorans find out she had helped us.

“I’m one of the lucky ones, enough food for myself, with some to spare.” Muerra handed over a sack of food to Ori as we prepared to leave, letting him stash it along with our other belongings.

“Thank you, ma’am.” Ori tucked the food into his pack and then added, “For everything.”

“For the last time, boy, stop thanking me. But Yer Grace, ya should have shown me those sores on yer feet last night. I could have had ’em feelin’ great this morning.”

“They already feel better, Muerra.” The salve she had placed on my feet as soon as she saw the blisters and swelling was already helping me more than I thought possible.

“Good ta hear it, dearie.” To my surprise, Muerra wrapped her arms around Ori and then turned to me, offering the same warm embrace. “I wish ya well, wherever ye might end up.”

The hug surprised me; no servant or commoner had dared touch me in such a familiar manner. That is, none except for Surea. Despite what propriety demanded of me, I relaxed in the old woman’s arms. As her embrace ended, I knew Muerra deserved more payment than the tattered dress I already provided. Motioning to Ori, I asked for the necklace he had stored in his bag. The tears that welled up in Muerra’s eyes as I handed her the jewelry were enough to convince me I had done all I could to repay her.

As Ori and I said our last good-byes, the sun peeked over the horizon. We hurried in the dim light, leaving Muerra’s cottage behind us as we tried to slip away without any other townspeople seeing us. The morning’s mist provided extra security, letting us disappear into the trees once more without drawing any attention.

My new clothes were already making travel easier, and thanks to Muerra’s help, my feet were barely bothering me. However, my muscles ached, protesting every movement as I followed Ori on the narrow trail. I focused on following the guard in front of me as he pushed through the foliage. Settling into a rhythm, I was able to ignore the worst of my soreness.

“Maybe we can purchase some horses at this next town.” Ori had rolled his sleeves up, a vain attempt to cool off in the sun’s unseasonably warm morning rays, “From there, we can ride toward the outpost at Ferrum. The King will have soldiers there to watch the border. It might only be a handful of men, but they can escort you on toward Seyna. Your future husband is waiting for you, and with horses, we might be able to beat any rumors of your death and inform the king what really happened.”

I felt my brow crease. “But we don’t have the coin for horses….”

“I can sell my armor and sword.” Ori stopped and handed me the canteen. “Muerra was right, the sword makes recognition too easy. We can’t afford that risk so close to Eniva.”

“We’d be vulnerable to attack.” I tipped the canteen to my mouth, tasting the warm water while I tried to weigh the options before us.

“On horseback, we might be able to avoid such confrontation.” The guard suddenly looked confused. “Milady, you are able to ride, yes?”

“Of course, my father taught me when I was little.”

“Then we are most likely safer with horses than with weapons.” Ori scratched at the patchy stubble on his cheeks. “You must forgive me, Your Grace, but if we were to be attacked by a group of soldiers, it would not matter how many weapons I had. I could not protect you alone. At least with horses, we could attempt to escape any misfortune until the soldiers at Ferrum can take you south.”

I let Ori’s statement go unanswered. Even with horses, we would be lucky to escape—it was a fact we were both well aware of.

“We should keep moving.” Ori’s deep voice cut through the thick silence that had fallen between us.

I nodded and fell in step alongside the guard, letting the monotonous beat of our feet against the ground distract me from my thoughts.

O
RI
was taking advantage of the small stream neighboring our campsite, using it to shave the patchy beard that had grown in the three days since we left Muerra’s. I watched him, almost expecting him to slice into his flesh with the blade in his hand. Skillfully, he slid the knife along his skin. When he finally walked back toward the campfire he had built earlier, I quickly examined him for beads of blood and was surprised when I found none.

“Here, I think there’s enough left for us to eat our fill.” As he sat beside me, I handed the guard a large piece of dried meat from the supplies Muerra had given us.

Ori took a large bite, thanking me and returning the blade with which he had shaved to its sheath.

“Good to see your face remains unmarred.” I smiled, aware that I had actually grown comfortable around the man in the few days we had been traveling together.

“My sister claims I look like a little boy when I shave.” He rubbed his cheek, grumbling, “She also says I look like a rabid animal when my sorry excuse for a beard tries to grow in.”