The Fugitive Prince Page 10

  Valente saved me.

  Cass deeply swallowed the fluttering in her stomach. She sternly reminded herself of the Duchess the prince had mentioned before.

  He is a prince. I have no right.

  The door swung open causing Cass to jump out of her remorseful thoughts. The prince proudly stepped in holding a bucket of water. In his eager trek, he splashed the wooden boards. The old wood tasted the moisture before drinking it up. Valente grabbed a bowl from the hearth as he placed the bucket down. Cass uncurled herself as she brought herself up from the bed. Valente dipped the bowl inside of the bucket and pulled it free. It refreshingly dripped with water as Valente brought it to his companion. He outstretched the bowl with unnecessary flair.

  “Here you go.”

  Cass thanked the prince as she took the bowl from his hands. She looked at the meager reflection within. A weak huntress stared back.

  He wouldn’t fancy me, anyway.

  Cass drank deeply from the bowl letting the cool fluid fill her body and refresh her groggy spirit.

  “Now. You had news to tell me?”

  Valente perked up keen to share.

  “Ah. I suppose it would be best to start at when I awoke…”

  Cass smiled as she listened to her prince.

  Valente’s story ended mid-sentence as Cass sat up in an abrupt realization.

  “MY BOW!”

  Cass looked at the prince with an inquisitive glare.

  “We’ve been here for three days and you didn’t get my bow?!”

  Valente stood in indignity.

  “Did you not hear the part where I dragged your dying corpse for hours? I didn’t have time to remember the bow.”

  Cass swung her feet off the bed, but the spinning cabin forced her back down. Valente stepped forward to help steady the huntress.

  “That bow is the only thing I have—”

  The coolness of the cabin danced across the huntress’s skin. Cass looked downwards at the lack of her clothes as the blanket tore off her revealing her undergarments. She screamed in frightful awareness desperately grabbing handfuls of retreating blanket to cover up her body. A red tide passed over the huntress’s face. Her embarrassment served as fuel for her fury.

  “WHERE ARE MY CLOTHES?”

  Valente reeled back and turned his gaze politely away.

  “Sorry, I forgot to mention you had no—”

  Cass’s blood ignited an inferno deep within.

  “YOU MEAN YOU KNEW I HAD NO CLOTHES ON? HOW?!”

  Valente tripped backwards in his frail effort to retreat from the enraged mass of blankets.

  “I… I didn’t… I mean, I—”

  Cass loomed over the cowering prince with an arsenal of wool cloth. She had not skinned a human before, but now was a great time to learn. The cabin door swung open as a giant stopped the oncoming massacre. Cass barely had a moment to react as the mountainous man stepped to intervene.

  “Oh.”

  The tower of a man grinned as he placed himself between the huntress and the prince.

  “Hold it there darling. No need to get violent. I was the one that undressed you.”

  This news did little to quell Cass’s rage.

  “You have nothing I haven’t seen before.”

  Cass reasoned that man’s size would help him serve as a significant amount of leather garments. Gregor sensed the heat of animosity flare from the huntress’s nostrils. He quickly continued.

  “Besides, I had to tend to your wounds and your clothes were in the way. I apologize if that upsets you, but no need to take it out on your friend after he saved your life.”

  Cass took a breath. She would make Valente into gloves at a later date. Cass did her best to keep her anger in check by pulling the blankets tighter making sure none of her was hanging out. She struggled against her urges as she strangled her braid.

  “Fine. I get it. But where are my clothes?”

  Gregor stepped back letting the prince pick himself off the ground. To regain his faltering stature, he mumbled about the unevenness of the cabin floor.

  “Well missy, they’re hanging outside. They were rather bloody when you arrived so I washed them for you.”

  Cass grunted a half-hearted thanks as she pushed past Gregor. In her haste and irritated passion, she nearly knocked him off his feet. She loudly closed the door to step outside the cabin. Gregor waved his mighty arms to catch his balance. With a thunderous grin, the knight rubbed his fire of a beard as he watched the prince adjust his flustered tunic.

  “I can see why you like her.”

  The prince tripped once more on the uneven floorboards.

  The cool air washed through Cass’s hair. She slammed the door shut behind her. Clinging to the wool blanket she closed her eyes and shuddered the embarrassing burn from her cheeks. Cass deeply exhaled and opened her eyes looking around herself. The cabin sat in among a litter of fallen trees. Several old stumps and scars in the dirt served as monuments to the work the giant man had gone through to build his cabin. The huntress looked at the wooden logs of the building. At the house’s base they appeared to be poorly cut. Though as her sight raised itself to the shingled roof, the craftsmanship improved in skill and quality. The charming effect made the small cabin appear lopsided. How such a large man lived in such a humble abode fed her curiosity. Cass looked away from the cabin to the outlying woods. Her trained eyes soon caught sight of familiar evergreens and fauna. She exhaled and her breath dissipated on the chill of the wind. This was Northern Lios. Far enough away from the Capital for a lack of patrols, but south enough from Tharia to keep vigilance relevant. In among the trees, a small stone well dripped with recent use. It stood a few meters from the house’s side. A small line extended from the cabin and stretched to the well. A jutting rafter held one side as the other firmly clung to a wooden post that reached upwards beside the well. On the taut line, Cass’s clothes drifted on the free wind. A brown leather quiver ripe with arrows dangled in bliss on the line. Their fluttering freedoms excelled at prompting the huntress to her current state. Cass hastily dressed. She placed the warm blanket on the clothesline to replace her garments. As she pulled her mother’s cloak around her, she let the rest of her anger trickle from her body in a heavy and audible sigh. The chill poked with interest at her new attire. Though it was not as warm or as comfy as the blanket, Cass’s balance returned to her. A loud knock resonated from within the cabin door. A firm and experienced voice called out from between the hinges.

  “Are you decent missy?”

  Cass smoothed out her clothes as she strode towards the cabin and voice.

  “As decent as I’ll ever be.”

  The large wooden door sprung open revealing a burly, towering man and a prince involuntarily cowering behind him. Both of the brave men stepped out in front of the wooden home to speak with the now less enraged huntress. Cass grabbed her braid ashamed. She looked to Valente and then up at the behemoth beside him.

  “Sorry… I overreacted. I’m used to taking care of myself, so I wasn’t expecting… I’m not too sure what I expected.”

  Gregor flexed his cheeks delivering an empowered grin.

  “Don’t worry about it lassy. You’ve nothing to hold shame for. Regardless, I don’t believe we have formally met. I’m Gregor as I’m sure you’ve heard.”

  Gregor extended his cinder block of a hand towards the huntress. Cass nervously mimicked his smile. She let go of her braid and shook with the giant.

  “Cass.”

  The knight thankfully released his iron grip. Gregor took hold of his beard as he placed a pat on the prince’s shoulder.

  “Well, I don’t know if Mr. Tharia told you, but I’m planning on joining you guys. There are more than just Lost Bannermen North from here. You can use the help.”

  Cass shot a glance at the prince as he stupidly smiled. She preferred to travel light, and this tower of muscle was far from light.

  “Well, if the prince says it’s okay, I guess it’s ok
ay.”

  Gregor smacked the prince’s shoulder before bringing his hand back to his beard. Valente’s insides bounce from the impact. He painfully grunted. Cass finished adjusting her cleaned clothes. It was almost perfect, however, a phantom weight beside her quiver pulled at her cloak.

  “My bow. I need to get my bow.”

  Gregor looked from Cass to Valente in a moment of contemplation.

  “From what Val told me I believe I know who took your bow.”

  Cass and Valente met the giant’s revelation with curious stares. Gregor fluffed his beard.

  “It’s a small camp of Lost Bannermen. They usually stick to collecting tribute from nearby villages.”

  Gregor pulled his hand down stretching out his red, brilliant beard.

  “Do you really need that bow?”

  Cass fidgeted running her fingers over the two rings hidden under her tunic.

  “It’s important. It’s my father’s bow. He gave it to me before he left for the militia.”

  The Liosian Knight’s smile faded to a stern frown.

  “I see. I’m sorry I asked.”

  The Giant’s smile returned with a spurt of confidence.

  “I suppose we have to get that bow then. I’ve had experience with those men before.”

  The edge of Gregor’s smile faltered for a moment as he tentatively blinked, “Usually ended up poorly. Often for them. If we get there, I can talk to them. I have an arrangement with them.”

  The knight’s brow curled in worry for an instant.

  “Hopefully we can do it peacefully, but if we can’t…”

  Gregor turned towards the cabin as he beckoned towards both his listeners.

  “Follow me. I’ve something to show you.”

  As Valente and Cass followed the Knight, they exchanged a look. Cass’s eyes did not burn with hatred anymore, but a thankful glint. Valente’s worried brow receded into a content smirk which was immediately refunded as Cass punched him in the arm.

  The cabin door shut behind them. Gregor pushed his massive log chair and table out from in front of the iron door with ease. The meager action for him sent shock waves throughout the floorboards. The little cabin shuddered in fear. Gregor moved to the now barricade-free door.

  “I figured I wouldn’t need to use this stuff again. However, I didn’t want to throw it out. Would have been a waste.”

  Gregor moved his hand around his body searching for an invisible key. After a few unfruitful pats, the large Liosian shrugged. Wrenching the handle of the door, Gregor shattered the metal tumbler and broke open the lock. Valente let out a peep of amazement. Cass raised her eyebrows in a lasting impression.

  The door grated against the moaning floorboards as Gregor swung it open. The proud knight propped open the door as he beckoned the two spectators inside. A small armory shone through the cabin door. Valente’s and Cass’s eyes sparkled from the shine of countless metals. All along the walls of the small room were racks of weapons of varying sizes and styles. Valente stepped inside recognizing a few from Arthan’s more exciting lessons.

  Cass watched Valente’s warrior within leap out giddy and gleeful, as he poured over the blades. She monitored him for a moment taking in the excitement he did little to hide. With a sigh over his hopeless state, Cass looked passed him and then to the heavy metal blades and armor and towards a smaller rack hidden in the far corner of the room. Several crossbows of incredible size imposed themselves on the wooden shelves, but the huntress looked beyond even them at a basic wooden short bow. The simple and effective design was all she was looking for in any weapon. The large man took notice.

  “Have your eye on my old training bow do you?”

  Cass gave Gregor a terse nod. Gregor happily gleamed.

  “You’re welcome to use it. Haven’t shot it since I was a squire though.”

  Gregor cracked his knuckles in pleasant recollection. He let his nostalgia pass him as he looked to Cass once more.

  “Is that all you need?”

  Cass plucked a small iron dagger Valente was admiring and sheathed it behind her belt.

  “Hey!”

  The prince would protest more, but his eyes and attention fell upon a row of well-built steel swords. Cass nodded with thanks to the Liosian knight.

  “I’ve got what I need.”

  Cass stepped out of the armory and left the cabin. Her shadow passed over Valente who was lost in the amazing reflections of the forged metals. The prince was beckoned blades, the dented steel, and shimmering spikes. Gregor grin burned under his beard at the chance to share his collection with someone that shared his passion. Grabbing a nearby long sword from the higher shelves, Gregor inspected it. Satisfied with the weight and the edge, the giant offered the blade to the prince with his continuing smile.

  “Val, try this one.”

  Valente took the blade from Gregor. The giant stepped back letting the prince handle the blade.

  “I used it when I was around your age. I swung this sword one hundred times a day when I was training to be a knight. It will serve you well.”

  Valente gripped the hilt and hoisted the steel blade. Its weight was unfamiliar as he struggled to manage it. The prince smiled in his new and profound liberty. As a foster prince, he never had the opportunity to hold an actual metal blade. Arthan could only show him wooden replicas or pictures in old books, and none of the guards were too keen on letting a Tharian prince see their arsenal. The closest cutting edge he ever wielded was the end of a page.

  Gregor reached down and pulled a leather vest and a set of clothing from a lower shelf. The bulky man’s eyes hovered over the garments testing their worth. Gregor pushed himself upwards once more and offered the small package to the prince.

  “Here. It’s about time you changed out of those torn clothes. They betray you to the knowing eye and besides they do little now besides hiding your shame.”

  Valente lowered the blade and grabbed hold of the bundle of cloth with his free hand. Gregor crossed his arms and gave a somber approving nod to the prince.

  “I hope they fit. They used to belong to… someone I knew a long while ago.”

  Gregor’s smile waned for a noticeable fraction before returning at full force. Valente brought his gaze downwards to the tatters he bore. He had turned his hand-woven royal pants into glorified peasant shorts and his silk shirt and royal vest were rendered into a patchy sash and aerated shirt combination. The pairing itself relied on each other’s failing integrity and thus threatened to loosen and fall from his body at the next adventurous gust of wind. He needed this. Nodding in an eager and thankful agreement he clung to the bundle of clothes.

  “Thank you, Gregor, this blade is brilliant and the clothes are welcome.”

  The grand giant bowed to the prince.

  “May the clothes keep you warm,”

  Gregor gestured to the sword in Valente’s hand,

  “and may that serve you as it served me: unerring and faithful.”

  A twinge of pride tapped Valente’s chest. It had been too long since someone had addressed him like the royal he was.

  Maybe it’s respect?

  He did not expect it from a Liosian knight of all people, but it was more than acceptable. Gregor tapped his bushy chin in a contemplative movement.

  “Val, do you know how to swing the blade?”

  Valente raised the sword up and took an uncertain fencing pose with his blade while juggling the bundle of clothes in his other hand. His balance lacked finesse as he wavered between the weight of the sword and his lack of experience. Gregor tapped the blunt end of the sword nearly causing it to fly from Valente’s hands.

  “Ah, a duelist are you?”

  Valente lowered his blade and listened to the knight as they both stepped out of the cabin’s armory. Gregor slammed the iron door shut. The last evidence of the lock clattered to pieces on the wooden floorboards. Gregor kicked the remains under the nearby table.

  “Well that might work, but often in th
e battlefield, the enemy doesn’t give you the chance to stand off one on one.”

  Gregor stopped at the door and pulled the handle. The hinges squealed in their attempts to hold order.

  “Come on, get dressed and I’ll show you some real swings outside.”

  Valente nodded enticed to learn something of engrossing interest. The dawn of the new lesson conjured memories of an old and tapered one. Guilt clung to his vest.

  “The life of the sword is a life full of blood.”

  Arthan had always done his best to dissuade violence regardless the circumstances . A prince should be able to command with authority and respect, not fear and violence, or so Arthan hoped to teach the prince. A haunting guise of a fallen mentor outstretched its cold and quivering hand from the prince’s mind.

  Anger and violence are traitorous subjects.

  Valente shivered and forced the lasting and final memory of Arthan he had back into the dark folds of his mind. Even in death, the old man refused to cease his scholarly duties. Though, in life and in lesson, something so dry does not stick.

  Valente looked at the blade as it reflected a blurred illusion of a black-haired blue-eyed prince. The image waved and faded as the shadow of Gregor passed by the door and closed it behind him. The Liosian’s shadow seemed to consume the light and glimmer around the blade leaving the prince alone in the wooden cabin.

  Sorry, Arthan. I need the blade for Tharia.

  Valente pulled down his royal shorts.

  Peace will have to wait.

  Cass notched the bow. The string stretched on the curved wood.

  Well-built and strung.

  Cass smiled in anticipation. The wind buffed her bangs from her face as she shot three arrows in quick succession at a less than fortunate tree. The arrows formed a small chevron in the bark and a symbol of the huntress’s aptitude. Cass walked to the tree throwing a surveying glance over her shoulder and towards the cabin. By the stone well, the enthusiastic prince nodded as the Liosian knight demonstrated swings and footwork. Valente swung with great determination hoping the lesson would construe itself into reality with ease. The blade sang in the air and the weight of the blade tossed him off balance into the ground. Gregor heartily chuckled in the distance. Valente groaned from the ground. Cass brought her hand to her mouth to stifle the giggle. The prince may not have been the ideal companion during their travels, but the huntress could not deny his drive and passionate outlook. She had to admire that. Tearing the arrows from the bark of the wood, Cass turned forward and looked beyond the tree into the vast openness of the woods. The cool air blew through the leaves bringing a restless murmur all around her. Their voices whispered the dreams of her heart. Cass reached inside her shirt and fingered her parent’s rings. The metal runes pressed against her fingertips as the cool metal reminded her of the people she carried on for.