Warrior (35 page)

his army and ride to Montak, where

he would squash any thoughts of

rebellion once and for all. While there,

Vulcan would also have a much-

needed discussion with the current

boy-king, who’d only retained his rule

because Vulcan was merciful and did

not see need to remove a king willing

to swear loyalty to him.

He and his generals had already

observed the squires and soldiers and

were now observing those men skilled

in different weapons. They walked

through the ranks, eyeing potential

soldiers who would leave for the

skirmish in Montak. Vulcan was

currently observing a swordfight

between two of his soldiers. He was

particularly drawn to the fight because

one soldier was smaller and, from

what he could see of his legs through

the leathers, shorter than the other.

Still, the man held his ground, using

cunning and skill to outwit his

opponent more so than brute strength.

Vulcan saw the smaller man feint to

the

right

and

anticipated

his

opponent’s mistake even before it was

made. The bigger man attacked

swiftly,

intent

on

bringing

his

broadsword down hard on the smaller

man’s shield, and unbalancing him for

a quick surrender. Instead, his

broadsword cut through air, he

himself was off-balanced and when

next he spun around, the smaller man

had the tip of his sword, which looked

smaller than any broadsword Vulcan

had seen, near the man’s neck.

“Yield?” the smaller man called in a

voice that sounded familiar. Perhaps

he knew the soldier beneath the

helmet. From his size, the boy could

easily have been a former squire.

“I yield!” the man on the ground

called and the smaller stepped away,

lowering his sword. The bigger man

removed his helmet, clapped him

heartily on the back and went about

finding another partner to practice his

skill.

Vulcan held up a hand, signaling to

the squire who followed behind him to

take the names of the men he was

enlisting for Montak, and approached

the man.

His helmet was still upon his head

and he seemed unaware of his king’s

approach until Vulcan stood directly

before him. He was quite short,

Vulcan recognized. Shorter than he’d

expected. Vulcan towered over him

by almost a full hands-length.

“You are skilled, soldier. Cunning,”

he acknowledged. The soldier dipped

his head in respect but said nothing.

Vulcan continued, “What are you

called?”

“Jamie, Majesty,” was the quick

reply.

Vulcan nodded. Jamie. He surveyed

the

smaller

man

again

before

beckoning his squire close.

“My helmet and shield,” Vulcan told

the young boy, who immediately

handed Vulcan the items he’d been

holding proudly. Vulcan pulled his

sword from his scabbard and flashed

the soldier a smile that revealed clean

white teeth.

“Have you energy for another

fight?” he asked, slipping his helmet

into place. He’d yet to practice for the

day and having a fight with a cunning

soldier seemed the right thing to do.

He especially felt the need to test the

soldier, as he was considering him for

Montak.

The soldier hesitated for a long time

and Vulcan was about to begin

barking commands when the man

spoke up in a low voice. “Yes, liege.”

From the moment that Vulcan had

put on his helmet, eyes had turned his

way. Warriors, soldiers, and squires

alike were aware of their king’s

prowess and whenever it could be

watched, were his loyal audience.

They did not know whom he faced

and soon murmurs about the soldier’s

identity began circulating through the

growing crowd.

They circled slowly. Vulcan waited

for the attack he knew would soon

come and was not disappointed. He

blocked easily, lying in wait for

another

attack,

while

analyzing

Jamie’s footing and stance. The

soldier attacked again and Vulcan

blocked once more and spun away to

avoid the follow-up attack he’d not

expected. The man was quick. He

smiled under his helmet. Small or no,

he would have his squire enlist Jamie

for Montak.

As if sensing he was being

evaluated, Jamie suddenly began to

pull back. He circled, he paced, he

feinted, but he did not attack. Vulcan

launched his attack, forcing the

smaller man back until, in a dangerous

move, he slipped under Vulcan’s arm

and launched an attack of his own.

Vulcan barely turned to ward off the

sword with his shield before the

smaller man began an impressive

assault that was so quick, many of the

soldiers

gathered

blinked

twice,

wondering if they were seeing

correctly. Using his shield and his

weight,

Vulcan

threw

Jamie

backwards and advanced at the same

time. Off-balance from the throw,

Jamie fought hard to keep his footing

as Vulcan’s sword rained down

attacks on his shield. His footing off,

he tripped and went down. Vulcan

was over him instantly, the tip of his

sword barely a hair’s breadth from his

neck.

“Do you yield?” Vulcan asked

loudly.

The soldier’s voice came, strong and

breathy. “I yield!”

Vulcan sheathed his sword and gave

the soldier his arm, pulling him up

easily. In truth, he weighed little.

A cheer went up around them

before the men went back to their

individual trainings.

“Good fight, Jamie,” Vulcan said

gruffly, taking his helmet off and

waiting for the soldier to do the same.

He did no such thing. In fact, he

didn’t seem intent on removing it at

all. Vulcan’s eyes narrowed.

“Thank

you,

Majesty,”

Jamie

replied again, and once more Vulcan

asked himself where he’d heard that

voice, or one similar to it. His eyes

narrowed on the soldier’s helmet.

Was that a Lytherian helmet? He

believed so. So Jamie was Lytherian.

“Is your helmet not stifling you,

Jamie?” Vulcan found himself asking.

And then it happened.

A soldier suddenly approached him,

asking Vulcan to demonstrate a

technique with a sword that he sought

to learn. The soldier’s helmet was in

his hand and it bore a similarity to the

helmet on Jamie’s head. He stared at

the soldier: gold hair cropped short

and golden eyes. Lytherian. The

soldier seemed desperate to have him

demonstrate the technique and Vulcan

was about to ask which technique he

referred to, when from the side, he

saw Jamie moving away. His steps

were quick; he was heading from the

courtyard.

“Halt!” Vulcan roared, and many

men stopped and stared at their liege.

Jamie stopped as well. Vulcan

approached Jamie, who seemed to be

running away from something, and

making Vulcan very suspicious of his

identity. Another soldier stepped into

his path. Golden skin, golden hair.

Lytherian. This one wanted to know

where the soldiers were to meet

tomorrow before they set out for

Montak. Vulcan barely gave him five

seconds of his time but when he

looked up, Jamie was on the move

again, heading swiftly for the entrance

to the castle.

Vulcan pushed the Lytherian soldier

aside and stopped Jamie once more.

By this time, the Morden soldiers

close enough to see what was going

on had gone on the alert. Many were

reaching for their weapons, wondering

what had their king walking so swiftly

through the crowd of men.

“Turn around!” Vulcan ordered

Jamie, angry now and more than

curious to know who was under the

helmet. He remembered the night that

his wife had breached his camp with

the intent to kill him. The Lytherian

soldiers had created a diversion to

keep her safe. He had a feeling that

they were trying to do it now, but for

whom this time?

Jamie pivoted slowly and lifted his

head to Vulcan. All Vulcan saw was

helmet and a small patch of golden

skin.

“Remove your helmet,” he ordered.

“I do not think that—” Jamie began,

only to have Vulcan cut him off by

taking the liberties of removing the

offending piece with his own hands.

No amount of soot and dirt could

have changed her face enough to

make her unrecognizable to him.

From the moment that helmet was off

and he stared into those fiery golden

eyes, he knew that Jamie was Jaisyn.

His wife. His queen. A woman! The

soldier he’d admired, whom he’d

complimented on his skill, whom he’d

considered enlisting for battle, was his

wife
. A range of emotions tore

through him: shock, disbelief, anger,

fear.

He took in her appearance again.

Her hair had been plaited and tucked

under and a meshy black cloth that

covered her head. Her face was

covered in dirt and grime and she

looked more like a dirty street urchin

than a queen. No one would

recognize her except for her soldiers,

whom he would deal with later! He

quickly surveyed the men around him.

None of his soldiers looked mortified,

horrified, or shocked. They only saw

a dirty young boy… the exact image

she and whoever had dressed her had

striven for. He handed her the helmet

immediately. Without a word, she

donned it.

Vulcan leaned his head closer to her

and said bitingly, “Leave now.”
I will

deal with you later.
He did not have

to say it. It was written in his eyes and

across his face.

She turned and walked swiftly from

the courtyard. He immediately spun

on his heel and searched out the two

Lytherian soldiers who’d thrown

themselves in his path to save their

queen. His eyes found them almost

immediately.

“You two… come with me!” He

headed for the stables with the

Lytherian soldiers following behind

him. His squire followed them all.

Deciding that their king was in no

imminent danger, the soldiers went

back to their sparring. Many had been

alerted of the journey to Montak and

were using their time to refine skills

that had not been truly tested for

months.

***

A bath had been waiting for Jaisyn

when she stepped into her room.

Madga helped her remove the armor

she’d borrowed from a smaller

Lytherian soldier while Asha unpinned

her hair. As they helped her remove

her disguise, Jaisyn’s mind whirled.

She’d been caught. And not only

caught… she’d been found out by

Vulcan. Her ears were sensitive to

any sounds coming from outside of

her bedroom. At any moment, she

expected him to walk into the room,

dismiss her ladies and positively tear

her from limb to limb. He was no

doubt angry but she knew that he was

also shocked that a woman had put up

a good fight against him.

She did not allow herself long in her

bath. Asha washed her hair as Magda

scrubbed the grime from her body and

gently washed her face. Lavender had

been added to the water to give it

scent and as soon as Jaisyn believed

that she was clean enough, she stood.

Magda sent her a curious glance but

didn’t hesitate wrapping the robe

around her queen.

She allowed them to dry her skin,

and untangle her wet hair. When