Chapter 1:
Ambush
The soft breeze of the coming spring blew back the long hair of Baros, who rode with impeccable posture atop his black mare. His shoulders were tucked down and back, puffing his chest out, and he held his head high. The perfect picture of a soldier of the crown. It had been nearly three years since he had graduated from the School of the Queen’s Guard, and only last summer had he graduated from the School of War Tactics from the University in Felonstin City. As he rode, and kept light tension on the reins in his hand, he scanned his eyes to the trees on either side of the road on which they travelled.
Baros, and his fellow guards, were escorting the royal family from the meetings with the Parilstan House of Lords. The two nations had tense relations but after the revolution in Parilsta, and the political unrest that followed, new opportunities for peace and mutually beneficial trade had arisen.
The journey was long. Four days ago they had crossed the Rushing River. The bridge was crowded with farmers bringing their crops and livestock across. It had taken nearly half the day to stop the traffic and clear the bridge to allow the royal procession to continue.
They had only a day or two more left to ride, weather depending. The spring was almost in full swing, but that brought unexpected rains which would slow their pace. Baros prayed that the rains would hold off. He longed for the comfort of home, and having spent the last few months in close proximity to the princess, he longed to be with her in solitude once more.
From their open air carriage, the princess sat on the opposite bench watching the road run out from behind the escort as her parents, the king and queen, sat facing forward to see the long dirt path framed by tall trees.
The sun was high in the sky now, and the coolness of the morning was giving way to a comforting warmth. Baros was beginning to regret his all black attire, but he kept his heavy coat over his shoulders. The weather was a weird mix. He knew that he would be too hot in his coat, but to take it off would mean to face the gusts of winds that chilled him. He chose the warmer option.
His heavy cloak hung behind him over the flanks of his horse as he rode. The patch of the silver owl stood out against the black leather on his back, and a smaller version on his left shoulder A silhouette of an owl, with its wings spread, swooping down to strike. The heavy cloak had been a gift from Tanasia, the princess. She had given him the fossilised arrowhead, which he kept in his left chest pocket in his vest. The arrowhead showed the exact same figure of the bird. It had become his symbol.
Few knew his name. Well, no one knew his name really. Even he did not. Baros was the name Tanasia had given him. Growing up an orphan boy, names had been like boots. Used until they no longer served their purpose then tossed out and replaced. Not until Tanasia had taken to calling him “Baros” had one stuck. The name “Baros” was a twist of the word “baromina” in the old tongue. For the longest time, Baros had called Tanasia “baromina” without telling her what it meant. She had assumed it was some sort of insult. Little did she know that the true meaning of the word meant “beloved”—or “my beloved,” depending on the context. In her usual mischievous and nettlesome way, she had begun to call him “Baros.”
“If you see fit to insult me at our every greeting, then I shall do the same to you.” She huffed at him one day.
Apparently “thief” or “boy” was no longer sufficient. He was fine with it. To finally have a name that was all his own was something he had longed for since he was a boy, and to have it bestowed upon him by her was all the more perfect. Every time she said his name his cheeks would grow that rosy pink, which she always teased him for.
Baros was not like most Gradorians, or even Parilstans for that matter. His long blonde hair, pulled back with a leather band to keep it out of his face, stood out among the crowd of usually darker haired Gradorians or the occasional fire-haired Parilstan. His lighter skin was different as well. Most of the continent had deeper tanned skin. Even the Tralahnese from the islands north-east of the continent, were deeply tan to protect them from the sun. So far, Baros was the only one of his complexion he had ever seen. Where he had come from he did not know, and it seemed no one else did either.
The steady beating of hooves beneath him created a calming rhythm with the creaking wheels of the carriage. He rode just behind the rear wheels of the cart and looked over the head of Tanasia down the road. His body held the tension of a soldier ready for battle, but after their many days in the saddle, he could feel himself losing focus. Worst of all, the shining face of Tanasia stared back up at him.
He caught her eyes. That lovely deep brown that entranced him so held his gaze as he clopped along. In her bright blue dress, that matched the colors of the Gradorain flag, Tanasia held all the strength and beauty of the queen-to-be. With her hands gently crossed over her lap, she looked up at him with longing. The two of them had been forced back into their usual civility amongst the lords and nobles of Parilsta. It was “not proper” for a princess to have relations with a commoner. They both knew that, but they disregarded the social morays mutually.
Ever since that night, after the banquet for the graduation of the Queen's Guards, the two had been forced to reckon with the fact that they were doomed to always keep that secret. Despite how much he desired to find the tallest hill in the land and shout his declarations of love for her, they would both be hung if it ever came to light.
Her cheeks went flush as she looked up at him. His sharp jawline flexed as she smirked and fluttered her eyelashes at him. He was always so predictable. She cleared her throat and averted her eyes as her mother gave her an inquisitive look.
“Dear, do not distract them.” Her mother chided her.
Tanasia harrumphed and crossed her arms as she turned to watch the trees roll past them. Baros heeled his horse and gave a sharp “hyah!” to run up ahead of the carriage.
As he rode past her, she caught the sign from his hand. His two middle fingers tucked down, leaving his thumb, index, and small finger extended out. He kept his hand tucked closed to his chest as he flashed the sign at her.
I love you. It said. She knew that, and she would always cherish it.
The cart cracked over a bump in the road and the wood creaked as they continued rolling on towards home.
That night, after the tents had been pitched, Tanasia sat outside her mother and father’s large tent on a stool by the fire held in a metal pit. She warmed her hands from the cold of the night, and held the book she read up to the light. Her tired eyes went over the words lackadaisically, barely taking in what she was reading. Inside, the king and queen discussed the recent negotiations, which had not gone well. The new House of Lords that had overthrown the Parilstan monarchy was no kinder to the Gradorian crown. Though the people of the nation desired order and peace, the politicians and elites did not. Rule of law in Parilsta was slipping.
Behind her, the forest was nothing but the soft sounds of rustling leaves. Tanasia focused all of her attention on the pages of her book. Some story Baros had said he’d enjoyed. He was always reading. This one though, was much more complex than she had originally thought. A translation from the old tongue, which Baros knew fluently but she did not, the language was much more allegorical than she had been led to believe. She sighed and continued to read.
As she read, she heard the chatter of guards not far off. They rustled about as they switched the look out posts and others went off to grab a few moments of sleep. Distractions. Focus Tanasia. She told herself. Turning her attention once again back to her pages she felt a hand slip around her waist and pull her up from the stool.
Baros.
He had come from the trees, and he crouched down behind her as he wrapped her in his arms and nuzzled himself into the curve of her shoulder. With soft lips, he gave her a light kiss on the bare skin of her neck and continued his way up. She dropped her book then reached up and ran her fingers through his hair that hung loosely now. The thick strands ran over her hand as she pulled his head closer to hers.
“Baros.” She said softly.
Then, she turned and saw his face still dusty from the long ride. His bright white teeth shone in the darkness of the night as he lifted her off the stool to stand on her feet. Their lips met. She clasped her arms around his neck and pulled herself up until she stood on her toes. Passionately, they pressed into each other as they savored every second of their closeness. It had been many days since they had last been able to embrace one another, and the floodgates were threatening to burst open now that they had been given even a semblance of release.
Finally, Baros pulled away from her. He reached down and grabbed her hand as he turned and led her off into the forest. His feet tread lightly as they stepped around broken sticks and piles of leaves to avoid making a ruckus. This time of night, no one would worry about the whereabouts of the princess. She had a “bad habit” of wandering off. Her mother chalked it up to her general curiosity. Her father said it was her tendency for mischief. No matter. She always came back safely, but in her own time. It would be tough for her to be saddled with the responsibilities of royalty when they were gone, but they simply shrugged their shoulders at the thought. She would grow out her childish ways eventually they thought.
Coming to a small clearing, Baros finally stopped and turned back to her. Once again, she pulled him closer to herself and he kissed her. Gently, but powerfully. She could feel it, within herself and him, how the weight of their desire pressed up against the restraints. Strong enough to break the bonds that held them apart, and it did.
Slowly, he lowered her to the ground. His strong arms supported her as she rested on her back and he hovered over her. The strands of his hair tickled her face as he brought his lips down to hers once more. Her hands worked furiously to push the shoulders of his coat off of him. The thick fabric fell to the ground with almost a thud as he threw it off and wrapped his arms around her again. She pulled herself up to him, and he rolled onto his back atop his strewn out cloak. His fingers fumbled with the lace of her dress. She giggled softly as he finally loosened the knot and pulled apart her bodice. Tanasia stuck out her arms and let the fabric fall loose over her shoulders. He pushed the dress down as she slithered out.
No amount of social pressure, or even internal willpower could have stopped them now. Both of them were too far gone. Too deep in their passion to pull back. Ships were built to take head on collisions, but it was when they tried to turn too late that they risked sinking. Therefore, it was better to face the harsh impact rather than turn from it. That is what they did. They rushed, head first and headstrong, towards the fulfillment of their desires. Her bare flesh pressed against his in the tumbled mass of their clothes. Through the opening of the trees, the silver moon cast light on them as they wrestled about in their frenzy.
She lay, tucked close to him as he wrapped his thick cloak around them both. Her fingers danced across the bare skin of his chest, tracing each of the scars that decorated his skin. Baros had his eyes closed and one hand underneath his head, while the other held her tight to him, as his chest rose and fell. She watched his eyes dart about underneath his eyelids as he slept. He never slept well. He had not in a long time. Only when his body was so mentally and physically exhausted that it could do nothing else did he sleep without dreams. She moved closer to him. The night was growing colder and his warm body was a nice respite. Underneath the dense fabric of his coat, they pressed together and savored each other's warmth.
Then she heard it. The shout. The scream. Baros' eyes burst open and he sat bolt upright. He turned his head in the direction of the camp and heard more cries of fighting. The clash of steel echoed through the air as some men shouted gruff orders. Before she could think, Baros was standing and dressed. His shirt lay too far out of reach, but he grabbed his cloak from her as she held it up to him. As he ran back up the small hill he pulled his arms into his sleeves. The end of the cloak billowed in the wind as he sprinted as fast as he could.
Tanasia instantly began to grab her things. She pulled on her underdress then picked up the other garments. She crumpled them all into a ball and hugged them in her arms. However, she did not run back up the hill. Instead, she ran to the opposite end of the clearing and ducked behind a tree. She pressed her back against the rough bark and tried to listen for the sounds to die down. Baros would come get her when it was safe again.
When he crested the hill, he saw the fires tipped over from their pits and the flaps of the tents had lit aflame. The other guards, some only half dressed as he, were fighting with black clad bandits. The bandits all had their faces covered by scarves tied around their heads. The sounds of clashing swords and spears rang in his ears. He did not have time to take it all in before a bandit came across his view. The man sported a large curved sword with a broad blade. Parilstan. Baros leaned back as the man swept across his face. The tip of the blade cut across his chest. It was a shallow cut, but enough to cause a waterfall of blood to paint half of his torso red.
Baros stepped back as the man gave another thrust. The blade nearly impaled him, but he rolled to the side at the last minute. At the shock of missing, the bandit carried his momentum too far and stumbled forward. Baros leapt back to his feet and gave the man a swift kick on the back to assist in his falling. The bandit stumbled and crashed down to the ground. At the instant of his fall, Baros gave another hard kick to the side of the man’s head. The bandit grunted as Baros' foot cracked his skull and shattered some vertebrae. Baros kept his heel on the man’s neck and pushed forcefully with his leg onto the weak bones of the spine. As Baros bent to pick up the man’s sword, he heard the small bones crack and break as the bandit coughed up blood. Standing, Baros gave one last twist of his foot to ground the man’s neck into the dirt as the stiff body of the corpse twitched beneath him.
He twisted the heavy sword in his hand. Parilstan sailors carried these swords on their backs normally, but they were further inland and at least a month’s ride from the ports of Parilsta. What were Parilstan raiders doing this far north? He did not have time to ponder further. Stepping into the fray of battle, Baros spun on his heel and caught the upward swipe of another man. The pirate looked up at Baros through thick black paint that covered the top half of his face. Baros could see the whites of the man’s eyes that were nearly red from bloodshot. Bright teeth shone as the man growled at Baros and twisted his stance for another strike. Baros hopped to the side and thrust out his sword to stab the man in the gut, but he was swiped away. Quickly, he shifted his weight to his back foot and raised his sword to block the counter strike from the aggressive pirate.
Their swords rang out as steel collided with steel. The blades of the swords waved from the force of the impact. While the pirate had his arm raised, Baros took the opening to raise his right leg and plant his foot firmly in the man’s stomach. The pirate doubled over as Baros' heel hammered into his flabby flesh and he coughed. Baros spun the sword in his hand to hold it downwards. Tightening his grip on the handle once more, he thrust the blade into the back of the hunched over man. Blood sprayed up and covered his face, turning his blonde hair to brown. The tip of the sword pressed further down and eventually broke through the front of the man’s chest. Bones cracked, and the man shuddered as his heart was cut in two. Baros tugged the sword free with grunt and kicked the hobbled corpse of the pirate over onto its side.
Behind him, Baros heard the rustling of tent flaps. The king and queen. Baros turned and ran. The opening to their tent had been cut open, and the posts that held it up were caught in flames. Pieces of the fabric had been torn off and were growing alight as black clad pirates ran about with the logs from the fires and set the camp ablaze.
Just as Baros turned he saw a group of pirates rush into the large tent. One of the men, an older man who was clearly the leader, led the way in with his face bare to the world. No paint or scarf covered him. Baros could see clearly the bright red hair of the man’s beard. Parilstan. He gritted his teeth and pushed forward towards the tent.
As he crossed the battleground, he cut down the frenzied pirates that got in his way. They slowed his pace, and he was not happy about that. Each second that he spent outside the tent was another second the king and queen were vulnerable.
Baros was still only half way there when he saw a mob explode from the opening. A group of four or five pirates walked out in a circle, between them were the king and queen in their night clothes. They were being dragged on their knees as the pirates held the ropes that tied their wrists together. As they were dragged out, the red bearded pirate exited and clasped his hands behind his back. The man’s large round belly poked out. He surveyed the damage and the fire that danced through the forest now. Ashes fell in the air as Baros fought his way towards him. The pirate turned to face him. Baros knew that face.
Kratoras.
In Baros' time with his old thieving crew he had come into contact with some nasty figures. None compared to Kratoras. The Parilstan pirate known for slaving and smuggling. He was as nasty as his reputation preceded. In fact, he might have been worse. Baros had seen Kratoras take a man’s tongue from his mouth. The man had been a guard on the docks whom Kraotras had paid off to let any useful information get to him first. After the guard had snuck off duty and run to Kratoras to warn him of an approaching search, Kratoras had unceremoniously held the man down and used the thick knife he kept on his waist to remove the man’s ability to speak. As the guard grabbed at his mouth and choked on blood, Kratoras had said “If you are willing to break your oaths to them, I can’t very well risk you doing the same to me.”
Kratoras turned to face Baros. Underneath the red beard a smirk decorated his face as he watched Baros cut his way through his men. Finally, Baros came close to the man. He thrust out the sword and drove it through the lower back of one pirate. He ripped to the side and severed the man’s spinal cord as a wide arc of blood sprayed across the king and queen at the center. They would forgive him for that, as long as they got out alive.
With a shoulder, Baros shoved another pirate out of the circle and reached out to grab the wrists of the queen to help her stand. However, she jerked her hands free and nearly fell to the ground.
After Baros elbowed another pirate in the nose, he reached out to help her again, but the voice of the king came. “No, son.”
Baros' eyes went wide, and he looked to the two who had treated him as if he were their own blood.
He turned his attention to the queen. “Save our daughter. Take her back to the city.”
Baros stood, stunned at their order.
“Go. That is an order.” The king shouted.
Baros, shocked at their demands, turned and ran. He dropped the sword at his side and bounded back towards the forest where he had last left Tanasia.
As he came to the edge of the camp, he stuttered his steps and slid to a stop. He turned on his heel and ran back towards the northernmost edge of the camp. Staying behind the trees and in the shadows just out of sight, Baros rounded the camp and finally came to where the horses were strapped to the carriages. He crouched low and stepped lightly around the parked rig. As he did so, his horse, Nocturna, shook his head and stamped his hooves. Baros unwound the reins from the post and gently tugged Nocturna away. He picked up his pace, and as he did his horse followed suit. In one fluid motion, without missing a step, Baros let the horse overtake him and he jumped in the saddle. Landing atop Nocturna as the horse kept running forward. Baros slipped his feet into the stirrups, ducked his head and heeled the horse back towards the grove.
Branches swiped over his head, and he heard Nocturna’s heavy breathing in his ears. The sounds of battle faded as he came back to the opening where he had last left his love. Pulling the horse to a stop, he jerked the reins back. Nocturna twitched and stuttered his steps as he spun around. Baros twisted his head, looking for Tanasia to appear. He did not see her.
“Tanasia!” He shouted at the top of his lungs.
Then, she popped out from behind a tree. Wearing only her underdress she ran towards him. Their pile of clothes fluttered out behind her as she dropped them from her arms. Baros turned Nocturna to face her, dug his heels into his sides, and took off. As he approached her, he leaned to his left and reached out his arm. Her hands extended forward, and as they met she grabbed tightly to his arm and he gave a heavy pull upwards. Her momentum spun her in the air as he did his best to direct her over the saddle. She came down with a bounce and a grunt as Nocturna neighed, but he kept on running. Tanasia pressed her face into Baros' back as they both bent over and hugged close to Nocturna as the strong horse ran away from the camp.
The orange light of the flickering fire grew dimmer as they ran, and the sounds of dying men became nothing but a whisper as the sounds of pounding hooves and a panting horse bombarded their ears.
Baros gripped the reins tightly in his hands and he patted the horse on the neck. The wind whipped his hair back and blew his coat up from his shoulders as they cut through the forest.
“Keep running, boy. Keep at it.” He whispered to his horse.
It was then he felt Tanasia’s hands clasped tightly around his abdomen as he hunched over. He could feel her fingers digging into his skin and her shoulders shaking. As he turned his head, he heard the sound of her sobbing.
Chapter 2:
Gradoria City
Gradoria City sat high on a hill. The looming structure of the outer wall reached high into the sky and covered nearly their whole view. Only the tip of the palace could be seen beyond. Around the outer wall of the city was spanning farmland and luscious forest. The peak of the hill upon which the city sat held the palace contained within the inner wall. Gradoria city was the epitome of Gradorian society. Both for good and ill.
Gradoria was an old land, but their begrudging trudge into modernity was present within the walls. Gradorian nobility flocked from their scattered farms and sprawling estates to enjoy the excesses of modern life. Theatres, bars, and even brothels were common among the many structures of the city.
The outer wall of the city protected the commoners within from invasion, but the inner wall insulated the royals and nobles from any grievances of the commoners. Two walls dividing two very different lives.
For as much as Baros admired the king, he did not make an effort to reach out and commune with his people. The needs of the country were always on his mind, but the country and its citizens were not always the same thing. King Aladonas held a lofty view of the nation. He ruled for “the honor of the crown” not for the good of the people or any semblance of justice.
Baros had been a commoner. Hell, he had been lower than a commoner, but he had shown King Aladonas that there was much more to the world than dreamt of in his high society philosophies and manuscripts. The king prided himself on reading the greatest literature, but all the words on justice or virtue did little good if he did not put them into practice.
Tanasia had seen that error. Partly because she loved Baros. If she could love him, the filthy street rat he was, there must have been something beyond the walls of the inner-city worth discovering. It had been just another one of their secrets.
When Tansia had just turned seventeen, she had promised to make Baros take her out to the outer-city. Not as the princess coming to the people, but as one of them. They had snuck through the servants’ passages underneath the palace and run under the gates as the guards shouted at them. In her brown patched dress, and Baros' common laborer’s coat, they were unrecognizable as the daughter-heir and one of her guards. Baros had been a Queen's Guard for almost a full year now so he had certain privileges, but sneaking the princess out to enjoy the offerings of the city was not one of them.
Tanasia had marveled at the camaraderie of the outer-wallers that crowded into the bars and theatres of the city. What she remembered most that night was the play they had gone to see. At an old playhouse to the edge of the city near the gates, they had watched a terrific comedy about two lovers from warring families. Tansia had loved the romanticism of the play, up until the end, when the two protagonists took their own lives in succession. All of that romance was ruined by tragedy. She had thought. Shame.
The fire-haired actress had stolen the show. Her raucous theatrics and breathtaking performance were eye catching. Baros had gone bright eyed and let loose the biggest smile she had ever seen on him as the young woman came out for her curtain call. He had been the first stand. He had even whistled to her. Not like most men whistle to a pretty woman on stage with one loud hollar, but he placed his fingers in his lips and let out a loud twitter. A bird call of sorts, or at least it sounded as such. The woman on stage instantly raised her head and straightened up from her deep curtsy at the sound. As she did, Baros stepped up onto the bench and clapped his hands together to create a booming sound. He thrust his hands in the air in excitement. The woman on stage blew him a kiss and curtsied to him, directly.
As he came back down to the floor and continued clapping, he saw the look on Tanasia’s face.
“What?” He had said.
She didn’t speak. Her scrunched brow and the hard punch to his arm said enough. However, Baros wrapped an arm around her and pulled her tightly to him.
Tanasia had kept her arms crossed, and done her best to maintain the look of anger on her face. That did not last long as he kissed the top of her head, and her cheeks instantly went flush. Stupid boy. She thought to herself.
However, as they approached the city now, the joy was sapped out. The two sat atop Nocturna after a whole night and a half day of riding. The sky was gray and cloudy, signalling coming rain, as they trudged up the stone path towards the outer-gates.
The leather of the saddle creaked as hooves clopped over the stone of the street that curved in between the outcropping of trees on either side of them. Tanasia pressed her face into Baros' back as they approached. He had removed his cloak and she had wrapped it around herself and him. Her shoulders shivered even underneath the thick fabric. At her expense his torso was left mainly bare to the world. As they had ridden through the night she had felt the blood that painted his torso continue to run from his wound.
Now the two of them approached the city in their dirt and blood stained clothes. Tanasia wore only her shift. Her bare feet were almost numb to the cold air. She scrunched her toes and then extended them, trying to keep blood and warmth in her limbs.
Baros tried to hide the cold’s effect on him, but she felt his body shake in minute ways beneath her as she huddled close to him. Nocturna moved at a slow pace as the arch of the outer-gate came closer. They could now see the guards underneath leaning on their spears or against the wall. Their helmets pressed hard on their heads, some even held them at their sides to alleviate the pressure of the metal on their skulls. The metal ridges that ran along the center of the helmets reflected the sun back to their eyes. For those who wore their helmets, their eyes were not easy to see through the thin slits over the face.
Baros saw their white capes flutter in the breeze. The sleeves and pants of their uniforms were the light blue and white checkerboard of the Gradorian flag. Had one of them turned, he would have seen the golden seal of the bear stitched into their capes. The chests of the guards were covered by thin leather armor.
As they came closer to the gates, the guards stood erect, and those who had not been wearing their helmets replaced them atop their heads. Baros loosened his grip on the reins and raised his arms to either side. The cloak dropped from around his shoulders and settled over Tanasia’s head behind him.
The guards saw his blood painted torso. Some raised their spears at him out of inexperienced fear. Baros had plenty of opportunity to burst through. Had he wanted to, he could have easily dispatched this band of five men and made his way into the city. All without ever dismounting his horse.
That was not his intended goal. Though, the expected return of the royal family was beginning today, and having a blood soaked man and the princess show up was not a sign to put their nerves at ease.
“Stop. In the name of the king.” One guard said forcefully as he jutted his spear at them.
Baros did as ordered. He tugged the reins with his right arm. Nocturna jerked his head and snorted as he came to a stop. The horse longed for rest and removal of the uncomfortable saddle. The group of guards encircled the riders.
“State your business.” They prodded.
“I come in service of Her Majesty the Princess Tanasia.” Baros jerked his head behind him and Tanasia leaned out to see the gruff and unshaven faces of the guards.
Upon seeing her face the guards eased their unsteadiness, but they still did not trust them. It would not be the first time a bandit had used the face of a pretty woman to accomplish his devious goals.
Tanasia shrugged the cloak off of herself and lifted it. Baros took it in one hand then moved, slowly, to grab it with the other. Grabbing the shoulders of the garment, he spread it to show the broad patch of the owl on the back. The guards gasped as he unfurled the fabric. Baros' patch had become synonymous with his name. Everywhere he went, stories of the black clad warrior arose. Every city patrolman, guard, and soldier knew of the patch. It had developed a mythos of its own.
“His Majesty the king and Her Highness the queen have been captured by the Parilstans. As of this moment, the rule of Gradoria falls to this woman.” He jerked his head back again.
The guards all stopped, bowed their heads and muttered “Your Majesty.”
Then, the Captain of the Guards, denoted by the golden seal over his left breast, waved his hands to the top of the wall. The arrows that pointed down at the group receded back behind the parapets, and the guards parted allowing Baros and Tanasia to ride through. Baros heeled Nocturna slightly and the horse trotted forward.
As they rode closer, Baros looked left and right along the curve of the wall. To his right, he saw the balconies of Lady Adeline’s Mansion poking out. A major security risk, but no one dared point that out. Lady Adeline was as ruthless as she was licentious. The market of satisfying one’s fleshly desires was an overcrowded one in Gradoria City, but the market for information was one Lady Adeline had cornered. No lord, guard, or patrolmen dare try and broach the subject. Let alone force her to change the design. No. Lady Adeline had enough buried bodies that she could dig up to dissuade any man with mind for his career.
Baros had tried, once. Even the king had shuddered. Baros had not missed how the king’s eyes darted over to his wife to see if she caught his reaction.
The balconies disappeared as they crossed under, and the shadows of the tunnel enveloped them until they came over to the other side of the wall. Once they had crossed over the wooden bridge inside, Baros turned and addressed the Captain of the Guards.
“Captain. Raise the bridge and lower the gates. I want no one in or out of the city for the next day. Any man or woman who approaches the gate is to be turned away.”
The captain nodded then turned back to his men.
Baros spoke up once more. “And—” the captain turned back around. “—any man or woman claiming to be the king or queen is to be vetted by me personally. Is that understood?”
The captain nodded.
“I do not want any of your guards to speak word one about the captors. Is that understood as well?”
Another nod.
“Good. I thank you, Captain.” At that, Baros heeled Nocturna and they rode up the main street that led directly to the palace.
As they went off, he heard the creaking of gears and hinges as the gates were lowered and the wooden bridge was raised to expose the opening of spikes and nails beneath. It was one thing to break through a gate, a wholly different thing to cross that boundary. It had been Baros' idea. In fact, it was his first major accomplishment as a Queen's Guard.
The street before them split off. One large circular street ran a loop around the whole outer-city. To their left would have taken them to the arts district that held the playhouse of Madame Katarina, where Baros had taken Tanasia to the commoner’s play. To their right led to the market and trading depots, but one first had to cross through the lantern light district. As Baros crossed the street and looked to his right, he could see the large structure of Lady Adeline’s Mansion that protruded from the outer wall. He grunted and turned his head away. He had always hated that place.
Orphans and whores have much in common. One being that many orphans become whores. Usually out of necessity, but some were attracted to the allure of power that Lady Adeline offered. Baros' times on the streets had put him into contact with the low-life of the city, that included the likes of Lady Adeline’s girls. Later on, when he had been co-opted by the thieving crew, he had spent more time than he would have liked within those walls. One blink was longer than he would have liked, but as the most junior member of the crew he did not get a say.
Baros heeled Nocturna on faster. The faster he was out of sight of that horrid place the better. Merchants and workers bustled about on the streets and on the balconies of the apartments above. Buildings of stone and wood rose up all round them as they rode forward. Both of them wanted to ride faster, but the maze of carts and stands, out of which vendors did their business, was not necessarily conducive to a large horse such as Nocturna.
Tanasia contented herself with that fact as she nuzzled herself into Baros’ back. They continued to trot along the road. She pulled his cloak tightly around her shoulders. His torso was growing colder by the minute, but he refused to wear it himself. Tucked behind him, she watched as the people of her city went about their business. Mother’s chided reckless children who ran about in the street, paying no mind to how they disrupted others. Some vendors tugged their carts along by the wooden posts that jutted out, while others had set theirs down for the day and stood behind them shouting to passersby.
Bags of rice and other grains stacked high on the sides of the street as a Tralahnese sailor leaned against them. A line of customers stretched down the block as they all eagerly awaited their turn to hand him a bag of coins in exchange. Tralahn was a necessary trading partner. Especially in the winter, even more so after the long winter of this year. The island nation off the coast of Gradoria was only a three weeks sail at worst, that was if the weather did not cooperate. If the wind and sea were kind to the captains then the journey took as little as ten days. That short trip, and Tralahn’s temperate climate which allowed for nearly year round crops, made them a vital part of Gradoira’s survival.
A city relied on the import of farmers’ goods, and the idea that those who lived in the city produced something those farmers would want in exchange. Gradoria City was known for its linen crafting. Fine silks woven into the softest patterns were envious of all. Had it not been for that commerce, Gradoria City would have been nothing but drunkards stalking the whorehouses.
They trudged up the sloping street of the city. All around them the bustle of people became nothing but a bombardment to their ears. Almost a full three days without any sleep had left them exhausted and focused only on getting home. Neither of them bothered much with the troubles around them. Periodically a vendor would come up and wave a garment or carved decoration in their faces, offering a “favorable” price, but they simply stared straight ahead and watched the inner wall grow taller as they came closer.
Finally reaching the inner wall, Baros once again took his coat from Tanasia and held it upright. The guards atop the allure behind the parapets waved at them and the inner gates clanked open as the gears turned within. Glistening metallic helmets reflected the sun back at them as the all white uniform of a Queen's Guardsmen flashed against the gray stones of the wall.
Nocturna clipped his way underneath the arch and finally came to a stop. Baros held his hand out and supported Tanasia as she slid down the horse’s back. Then, he swung his leg over and dropped down to the ground.
Holding the reins loosely, he led the horse under the arch. Guards came down through the staircase within the wall and ran to meet them. Baros handed the reins off to another guard who took Nocturna gently and led him over to the stables for some rest and food. Tanasia leaned onto Baros as he wrapped one arm around her. She crossed her arms over her chest and hugged his coat around herself. Her bare feet were cold on the stones of the floor, but she thanked heaven that no one could see that she lacked shoes as Baros’ coat drug on the ground around her ankles.
“Guardsmen.” One of the men said. None of the men called Baros anything other than “guardsmen” or “soldier.” Just like the symbol of the owl, it had become synonymous with him. Ask any soldier or Queen's Guard who “the soldier” or “the guard” was, and they would describe Baros.
Baros turned to face the man who had called to him. A young guard, newly pinned with the medal, but he carried himself with an air of experience. Likely he had been a soldier before his admittance to the School of the Queen's Guard. Despite his youth, the man was taller than Baros and much broader shouldered. His dark hair was pulled back with a thin leather strap that wrapped around the crown of his head. He had a smooth face except for the mustache over his lip that curled at the ends.
As he stuck out a hand, and Baros took it in greeting, he felt the strength of a man used to hard work.
“I am Arakos, sir.” The man spoke with a deep voice. “Where are the others?” He asked hesitantly. As soon as he spoke, he darted his eyes around to make sure none of the other guards heard him.
“Arakos, I am afraid we have a problem.” Baros said. “However, my first call to duty is to get Her Majesty—” Baros motioned towards Tanasia who stood at his shoulder. “—inside and warm.”
Arakos nodded in agreement then extended his arm to lead them back to the palace. The three of them walked back up the stone path towards the palace with its one raised tower that loomed over them. Tanasia’s rooms were at the top of the tower. Well, they were a few floors of the tower actually. She had moved up there in a hope for more privacy now that she was older. Which saddened Baros as he could no longer make “chance” passes by her door and “happen” to catch her when she was not busy. Though, away from the constant foot travel of the palace servants, and her mother and father, the two had ended up spending more time together. Baros’ skill with the climbing hook did come in handy when he had to scale the stone wall of the tower late at night or early in the morning.
As they walked, Baros turned to Arakos. “Arakos, what is your rank?”
Arakos cleared his throat and straightened his posture. “First Class Guardsmen.” He said.
“First class?” Baros raised an eyebrow. “How many years did you spend in the army?”
“Um, sir.” Arakos cleared his throat again in nervousness. “Two years, sir.”
Baros nodded in response “What rank in the army?”
“Corporal.”
“Corporal? In two years?” Baros raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
“One sir. One year a private, one year a corporal.” Arakos stated.
Baros gave another look of questioning.
Arakos cleared his throat a third time and continued on. “Our lieutenant abandoned us. Behind enemy lines in the Pomostra Mountains. I assumed command.”
“Pomostra Mountains…” Baros raised a hand to his chin and tapped his cheek with a finger. “The fifteenth regiment. That was you?” Baros asked.
Arakos looked to the sky in embarrassment. Baros could sympathize with that. He never fully knew the proper response for recognition of his achievements either. It was all so odd.
“Yes, Commander.” Arakos spoke. “It was I, and my men of course.”
“I had assumed Lieutenant Scratoras had died in battle.” Baros shrugged his shoulders.
“I felt no need to trample on the man’s dignity. We found him dead in the enemy camp when we overtook their outpost.”
Baros nodded in agreement. “That was brave, man. A little stupid, but I shall not chide you for that lest I become guilty of hypocrisy.” Baros gave the man a jovial tap on the shoulder. “However, no need to call me Commander. I am Baros.” He stuck out his arm. Arkaos clasped his rough hand over Baros’ forearm.
Baros was currently a commander of the guard. However, he hated the title. While it was suitable for his role of leadership, he never liked the air of servitude that people assumed they should take with him. The air Arakos was assuming now, but clearly had no concept of how to establish it.
Coming to the edge of the palace, Baros let Tansia continue down the covered pathway around the gardens. Her servants ran to assist her. One servant, a kindly older woman named Adrina, wrapped her arms around the princess and rubbed her shoulders furiously. Tanasia leaned into the woman and Baros saw her shoulders shake with crying once again. He sighed, having wished he could have done better to comfort her.
That was not his strong suit. Emotions that is. Soldiering was simple to him. Kill or be killed. That was practically how he had lived his entire life. Dealing with emotional turmoil was not a skill he had learned in any aspect. Tanasia exposed that flaw to him almost daily. Whether she knew it or not.
Turning his attention back to Arakos, Baros spoke again. “My friend, I trust you to keep a secret.”
Arakos nodded his head and his face became stern.
“Good.” Baros looked around for any curious sets of ears. When he saw none, he continued. “We are at war. His Majesty the king, and Her Royal Highness the queen have been taken by Parilstan raiders.”
Arakos’ eyes went wide at the revelation. He shifted his feet nervously. “Commander, sir, I…” He trailed off.
“No mind.” Baros waved a hand. “The matter at hand is first and foremost the safety of Her Majesty the Princess. Secondarily, I want the inner wall secured. The servants can come and go, but only on accompaniment of guards. I fear that more threats are looming, and I trust very few.”
Arakos nodded and crossed his right arm over his chest to pound his fist into his heart. “Aye, sir.” He stood at attention as Baros tapped the man reassuringly on the shoulder once more.
“Thank you, lad.”
Arakos turned to leave. As he made his way down the stone path back towards the gate Baros shouted after him.
“Arakos.”
The big man turned and looked up at the bare chested man with dried blood covering his abdomen. Cold wind bit at them, but Baros did not shiver.
“It takes a certain type of bravery to lead when you did. Be proud of it.” He nodded at the man.
Arakos’ armor clinked as he gave the chest-crossed salute once more.
Baros turned and made his way up the few stone steps to the palace. As he came under the overhang he was thankful for a relief from the breeze. With Arakos out of sight, he wrapped his arms around his bare torso and shivered as he walked. He coughed and wheezed as the cold air bit at his lungs.
Slowly, he made his way towards the side door nearest the servants’ wing. As he walked, Adrina rushed out and rounded the corner to him. In her arms she held a thick blanket that she quickly threw over his shoulders. Baros did not question it at all. He grabbed the edges and pulled it around himself tightly.
Adrina rubbed a kind hand over his back as he continued to pace forward into the warm walls of the palace. As he came into the doors, the sun shone through the stained-glass windows casting decorative rays of multi-colored light on the smooth marble walls. He scanned his eyes up to the vaulted ceilings, across the chandelier that hung in the opening, and looked out towards the opening that led to the princess’ tower.
“Tanasia…” Baros said to Adrina as they walked.
“She is having her bath, and I am sure she would like to rest. No need to bother her now. Let us get you cleaned up, boy.” She talked at him like he was her own child who had just come in from splashing about in a mud puddle. The weight of the situation seemed to be absent Adrina’s mind. Good. The less anyone knew the better. Panic could be just as deadly as an army.
However, it was not out of ignorance that Adrina failed to address the situation. She was a smart woman, and perfectly capable of deducting the gravity of events on her own. No. She cared not for the larger implications, those were left to the minds of others. Since his first day in the palace, all Adrina had ever cared about was caring for those she served. Him and Tanasia mostly.
Baros had never known his mother. She could very well be dead for all he knew. The closest thing he had ever known to a mother’s love was Adrina. Her kind and welcoming presence defined her, but any who knew her could feel the air of authority underneath that bubbly exterior.
Passing the kitchens, Adrina rushed in then brought out a warm cup of tea, which Baros held gingerly in his hands. Steam rose from the lip of the cup as he lifted it to his lips and sipped the warm beverage. The heat of the water going down to his belly radiated throughout his entire body.
When they finally came to the servants’ wing, Adrina beckoned Baros in. He turned to give her the blanket, which she took and folded neatly in her arms. She always did that, and he never understood why. The blanket was to be thrown in a basket with heaps of other laundry. There was no need to neatly place it, but Adrina always did. Baros smirked at it. He had seen her do it so often, that even he neatly folded his discarded clothes and linens before washing. However illogical it seemed, it was a habit that Adrina had given him and he was happy to have that.
Gently, she shut the door to the foyer of the servants’ quarters behind him. Before the door fully closed, she leaned her head through and spoke through the crack.
“Wash up, I will knock on your door in half an hour to stitch that nasty wound. Be sure to deal with that mess on your head, child.” She huffed as she finally shut the door completely closed.
Hearing the latch click shut, Baros turned to walk to his room. The mirror hanging on the wall above the hearth cast his reflection back at him. He really was a mangled mess. His long hair could easily be mistaken for a crow’s nest. Dirt and mud was strewn throughout so badly that one could barely tell his hair was light as it was. His whole torso, from neck to navel, was caked in earth and blood.
Seeing his dastardly appearance, he hurried his pace back to his room. Pushing the door open, he saw the small bed pushed into the corner. The large open floor interrupted only by a fur rug. On one wall was a wardrobe with a mirror next to it, and on the other was his bookcase that held literature from battle tactics to theology to romanticist plays. He had always loved to read. Especially in his early years, and even more so during his years of soldiering. Nothing calms the nerves like a good story.
He leaned on his door to close it. The wooden door creaked on the hinges as he crashed against it. Using his toes, he kicked off his soft leather boots. Baros refused to wear the hardsole and heeled boots common among most men. They were too stiff and heavy for battle. He needed maneuverability and light footedness. Instead, he made thin and light leather sole boots. They did not provide the added height that most men liked, but he could bounce easily on the balls of his feet and dart quickly across rooftops in exchange. He would take that trade.
As he kicked his boots off, he jerked his feet and they flew across the room. One crashed into the wall and landed on his bed. The other spun in the air only to come down flat on the sole. He chuckled at the luck. Still leaning against his door, he untied his leather breeches and let them fall around his ankles. As he stepped out of them, his knees creaked with stiffness from riding. He lifted his arms and stretched out his whole body. A groan of relief came from deep within his throat as he arched his back.
A warm bath would do him well. Baros walked over to the corner of his room and turned around the opening in the wall that gave way to a small bath area. Walls and floor entirely covered in porcelain tile, a wooden soaking tub sat on the back wall. The floor sloped down to the center where a drain led into the palace sewage system. Without a second thought, he hobbled over to the tub and looked down. Adrina, you are an angel. Warm water cast steam up towards his face. Gently, he lowered himself in and let the warm water ease his aching bones. The soft light of day came in through the oval window and warmed his face as he hung his head over the lip of the tub.
He laid his arms over the sides and let water drip off his fingers to the floor. As he did, he felt his hand brush something on the floor. He opened one eye and turned his head to see the bar of soap sitting directly next to the tub. Yes Adrina, I will not forget. He grabbed the bar of soap and rubbed it in his hands creating a torrent of bubbles.
Once he had finished his bath, he laid on his bed in a pair of soft silk breeches. He had taken the time to arrange his old clothes. His mud-caked boots were neatly placed in their spot underneath his wardrobe, and his dirty clothes were neatly folded in the basket by the door, readly to be taken to laundry the next morning. Finally letting his head fall to his pillow, he laid his hands over his chest, the stinging of the open wound reminded him of the battles yet to come, and closed his eyes.
He was awoken to the sound of knocking on his door. Three knocks came. Then a pause. During that pause he swung his legs off his bed and sat upright. Pain cascaded over his abdomen and he groaned with the effort. Three more knocks came at the door.
“One moment Adrina.” He said as he stiffly walked his way over to the door. Turning the handle, he swung the door into the room and stepped aside to let her in.
He nearly slammed it shut again as he did not see Adrina standing there, but Tanasia. She was dressed in a loose fitting blue robe, tied around her waist with a strap. Her dark curly hair was tied up on her head in a haphazard bun. She stood, with her hands crossed nervously in front of her, in his doorway.
Darting his head out of the door and looking left to right to see if any servants had seen her, he pulled her into his room.
“What are you doing here? Adrina said you’d be sleeping.” He said.
Tanasia lifted her hands and caressed his cheeks. “Baros. I’m scared.” She stifled a cry as she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face to his chest. Her tears wet his skin, but he wrapped her tightly in his arms anyways.
Calmly, he helped her sit on the bed and she sniffed back further sobs.
“I could not sleep.” She said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “Mother and Father, oh, where are they now? Heaven knows.” She threw up her hands then let them fall to hold up her head as she hunched over.
Baros rubbed his hand across her back. He was never good at this sort of thing.
“Baromina, it will be alright. I can find them. They will be safe again.”
“You don’t get it do you?” She turned to him. Her face was angry and growing redder with each passing moment. She pushed his hand off her back and hit him in the chest hard enough that he winced.
“I watched you run into a fight like that without any weapon. Do you know what that was like?”
He looked at her wide eyed. He was a soldier, that was what he did.
“I always hear stories of the heroic soldier who runs into battle recklessly. I had never seen it. God. I wish I never had. Is that what you do every day that you are not with me? Throw yourself into battle without any care in the world. Damn it, Baros, you could have been killed.”
He stayed silent for a moment before he spoke. “Tanasia, that is what I am supposed to do. I am a soldier, a Queen's Guard, it is my duty. My obligation.”
“What about your obligation to me?” She screamed at him and hit his chest again. This time he grabbed her wrists and held her arms out from him as she jerked about trying to loosen his grip. “I will not watch you die for me, my love. Not ever.”
He released her arms from his hands. Slowly, he lowered himself down to kneel on the floor. She was above him now, and he looked longingly up at her.
“My baromina, that is my only purpose. To give my life for yours. My dear, I promised you that my life is yours and yours alone. To my very last breath that will be true.” Baros reached out and took her soft hands in his. Against his many calluses and scars her hands were pristine and delicate. He held them in her lap as she looked down at him. Tears cascaded over her cheeks. “What kind of man would I be if I shirked all responsibility for my own desires?”
She sniffed back sobs. “Baros.” Her hand went to the back of his head and pressed him closer to her. “I know who you are, what you are, and I love you for it, but that does not put an end to the sinking feeling of my heart each time I watch you leave. Each time knowing that you will be put to the sword for me. For my ends. For my kingdom. Oh God, I cannot bear it. I heard their screams, Baros. Dying men. Men who died for me. I see my father read the numbers of the battle reports, I see the plays in the theatres, I listen to bards spin marvelous tales of soldiers and their escapades, but it is not real. Not a word of it. Not until last night. I saw the blood, Baros, yours and theirs. Each of those men died to save me. Why me? What am I to be worthy of so much slaughter?”
He looked up at her. His soft blue eyes reflect her own face back to her. “Tanasia, I cannot tell you why. I can only tell you that it is what must be done. Without you, or your mother or father, every single one of those faces we passed on the street will become subjects to the terror of another. It is not you, but what you are. You are not merely yourself, but a symbol. To them and to anyone else who watches. Stability, justice, courage, compassion, and mercy all must be first and foremost within you. A queen is more than a woman, more than crown, but you are the protector of the peace we live within. I fight in the darkness, so that they can live in the light. I drown in blood so that they may breathe fresh air. My love, our lives are not our own, but they are our responsibilities.”
She wept. He rose to wrap her in his arms and she sobbed into his chest. Softly, he held her as she fell into him. All he had fought for was to insulate her from the brutal reality they faced. Now, it had come crashing onto her very doorstep. She had been forced to face it head on and could not look away, no matter how much she wished to. Baros had never known a life without that harshness. He was more than willing to take all the slings and arrows he must so that she may take none. However, he could no longer keep that promise. She was fully thrust into the fog of war that was his every waking moment.
A short while later, another knock came on the door. The pair stood instantly, and Tanasia attempted to hide the evidence of crying from her eyes. Baros quickly grabbed a shirt from his wardrobe and tossed it over his head. Punching his arms through the long sleeves he pulled the door open, Adrina shuffled in carrying her box of medicine and stitching equipment.
As she entered she mumbled something about Baros taking his merry time, but she stopped short as she saw the princess standing before her. “Ah, Your Majesty.” She gave a small curtsy, then looked to Baros who stood across from her, hopefully without too much guilt painting his face. Judging by Adrina’s look, there was more than he’d have liked.
“Ah, yes.” Baros cleared his throat
.
“I shall leave you to it.” Tanasia spoke over him.
He gestured towards the door and awkwardly reached around Adrina to let her out.
“Thank you, my brave soldier.” She stuttered out.
“I live to serve, Your Majesty.” He bowed his head as she turned out of the room.
When Baros had shut the door, he turned back to see Adrina, hands on her hips, giving him a cheeky smirk.
“I know. I know.” He sighed.
She tsked at him. “She much appreciates your service to her family?”
“Something like that.” He said as he laid down and lifted his shirt so she could see his wound.
Adrina grabbed the stool from the corner of his room and sat at the side of his bed. After threading her needle, she dipped it in some horribly smelling solution that must have been some mix of alcohol and vinegar.
“I expect you to be decent with her.” She said. At that she poked him with the needle and he gritted his teeth. This was by no means the first time Adrina had stitched him up, and it certainly would not be the last.
“Always.” Baros winced.
“Hmm.” Adrina hummed as she set to work on his stitches.
Chapter 3:
Execution
Baros lay on his bed with his hands underneath his head. His eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell with deep contemplative breathing. He had slept a bit, only a few hours or so. Until nightmares woke him. His body was tired enough that he did not think to move. The stitches over his abdomen were sore from Adrina’s stitches. He was glad when it was over and he could be alone. Tanasia’s flood of emotions followed by the pain of Adrina’s needle was not something he wanted to experience again. The two had a way of getting him to reveal things which he would rather have kept hidden. Though through two very different strategies.
Adrina had not spoken a word to him throughout the whole procedure. Save for when she finished and she gave him a stern warning about stressing himself too hard before the wound fully healed. He had grumbled his recognition of her suggestion. She had promptly harrumphed at him, knowing he would not heed it.
Baros tried to let the weight of sleep take him, but he was interrupted by a strong knocking at the door. He leapt up from the bed and walked over to answer the knocking. The banging did not stop, and the wooden door was shaking with each pounding of the fist on the other side.
As he pulled the door inwards another heavy knock came, causing the door to nearly swing out of his grasp. The large heavy fist of a man pounded in now that the door gave no resistance. Baros jerked back then addressed Arakos who stood with his helmet in his arm.
The look of fear was thick on the man’s face, and his eyes were wide as he gazed at Baros.
“Sir...Uh…The outer wall…” He stuttered.
“Go. I will meet you at the gate.” He said gruffly.
As Arakos turned to leave, Baros kicked off his soft pants and dressed himself in more sturdy clothes. Once he tied the laces of his boots around his calf, he reached up and grabbed his cloak from its hook where Adrina had left it. He threw his arms into the sleeves and bounded out the door.
Servants were huddled into small masses as they watched him run past. He saw their worried faces and how they whispered to each other in his presence. Baros pushed the heavy door of the main entrance open and sprinted down the pathway. As he ran under the arch of the inner gate, he saw Arakos holding Nocturna by the reins. The large man was atop an even larger horse. Baros did not hesitate to get a running jump up and land atop Nocturna.
Taking the reins from Areakos, he heeled his horse and they bounded towards the outer wall. City guards had cleared the path of vendors and merchants, so the cobblestone streets were wide open as the two rode hard and fast towards the outer wall. Baros tucked his head low, as did Arakos, and the tall building became a blur at the edge of his vision. He focused his gaze at the end of the street to the large gate with the portcullis down over the arch.
Baros pulled Nocturna to a skidding stop. Before the animal came to a halt he had already thrown his leg over. The moment his feet hit the ground he ran. Pushing past the throng of guards who stood at the gate, Baros pushed open the wooden door and bounded up the spiral staircase within the inner wall. He took the steps three or four at a time as he hurried his way up.
When he came to the allure of the wall, he was greeted by a heavy gust of wind that nearly blew him off his feet. Squatting his stance and correcting his balance, he pushed his way between the parapets to look out. When he did, his heart leapt up to his throat and nearly choked him.
The lands beyond the wall were sparse until the trees grew thick about half a mile off. In the distance between the tree line and the wall was what must have been the entire Parilstan army. Thousands upon thousands of heads, with tall spears poking up amongst them, created a sea of people. What startled Baros the most was not the army—the walls were safe enough—but the large square platform built at the center of the audience.
A raised wooden stage, with a horizontal beam supported by two vertical posts created a brown target amongst the mass of silver helmets. Along the beam were two ropes, each tied into a noose. Baros nearly fainted when he saw a man step up onto the stage by a small set of stairs at the rear.
In one hand the man held a large conical horn. The man, with his long red beard hanging down over his belly, stepped to center stage. Even from this distance Baros could recognize the man by that walk. Kratoras.
Kratoras raised the horn to his mouth and spoke.
“People of Gradoria City. I bring to you a token of Parilsta.” He waved his hand down to the audience and two men led prisoners up onto the stage. Not just any prisoners. A man and a woman dressed in fine nightclothes. The king and queen.
Baros turned back as he heard grunting and shouting behind him. From the hatch that led to the staircase, he saw a mass of dark curly hair, and thin arms swinging wildly to hit back the guards who tried to force her down. From below the voice of Tanasia rose up. Baros pushed aside one guard and saw her face staring back up at him from the steps.
“Let me up, Baros. I have a right to see what is going on.”
Baros waved the guards aside and she stepped up defiantly. He hung his head. This would not be good.
They both stepped over and looked between the large stone defensive parapets back out to the crowd.
Upon seeing the flash of blonde hair next to the shorter dark haired figure, Kratoras raised the horn and spoke again.
“Ah, Princess. I am so glad you could join us for the show. Seeing as now it is to you I make my demands.” He laughed, and the army let out one big roar.
Tanasia held a hand to her mouth as she saw her parents on their knees behind the red bearded man. Baros placed an arm between her and the wall and tried to push her back. She grabbed his arm and hit him in the side.
“No. I must see this.” She said through teary eyes.
Baros reluctantly let her back to stand beside him.
Kratoras yelled again. “Your Majesty,” He gave a mocking bow. “Parilsta demands that all ties to Gradoria and the homeland be severed, that your troops remove from our rightful territory held by the Alakosians with whom you are allied, and that you surrender all lands south of the Rushing River.”
There was a brief pause. Baros reached his hand back and grabbed a bow from an archer. From the quivers mounted on the stone walls, he grabbed two arrows.
“As a show of our resolve, we have a little demonstration for you today.” Kratoras threw down the horn as the crowd around him stamped their spears and let out uproarious cries of joy.
Kratoras walked over to the queen, who knelt with her head bowed. The woman’s white sleeping shift was nearly brown from all the muck.
Grabbing her under the shoulder, Kratoras jerked her to her feet. The king next to her shouted and shook, but the two soldiers pushed him down. One grabbed his head and turned it towards his wife. Baros could hear the man’s sobs from where he stood.
Baros nocked one arrow on the string, but he did not raise the bow. The queen shouted protests as she was led underneath one of the loops of rope. Instantly, Tanasia shouted.
“Stop him. Please, Baros, stop him.” She pounded her fists on his back as he stood looking outward. His face was stone.
“Arakos.” Baros turned to the man who had followed up behind them. “Hold her back.”
The man did as ordered. He grabbed the princess by the elbows and tugged her away. She shook violently and spit hatred at Baros as he watched.
Baros tried to shut her out of his mind.
Kratoras placed the loop around the neck of the queen, and he tightened the noose by the string of the knot. The woman stood, with her hands behind her back, looking up directly at Baros. Their eyes met despite the distance. Baros bent and tugged the arrow back. He kept the bow beneath the stone ledge to hide it from view below.
Kratoras stepped back and grabbed the horn once more. He raised it to shout, “Royal blood runs just as thick as a common soldier’s!”
Then, the floor swung out from underneath the queen. A hatch in the floor dropped, and so did she. Not far enough to break her neck. Baros saw her legs shake and kick as her face grew purple. Kratoras laughed and threw his arms out wide as the woman struggled for life.
Now Baros raised the bow. He aimed the arrow directly at the heart. In his ears Tanasia shouted curses at him. He blocked it out. He had to focus.
With one long exhale he loosed the arrow. The string vibrated in the air as the arrow sliced and whizzed downwards. With a thunk, it embedded itself through the chest and out the back of the queen. Her legs stopped shaking, and her head dropped. Her suffering was over.
Without a second’s hesitation, Baros nocked the other arrow and pulled the feathers to brush his cheek. He took slow methodical breaths as he aimed again.
In astonishment, Kratoras turned and gawked at the queen’s body struck through by the arrow.
Perfect.
As the fat red bearded man stood gaping, he could not see the arrow that flew towards him. The arrow cut through the air, but a gust of wind threw it off course at the last moment. Instead of the man’s heart, the arrow was pushed up and to the left.
The arrow head poked through the soft flesh beneath Kratoras’ collarbone. As the man screamed in pain, he dropped to one knee and Baros saw the tip protruding from the man’s upper back. The fat man screamed and shouted as one guard holding the king rushed towards him and tried to help. He was met by a hard slap across the face from Kratoras who picked himself up. He stood, glaring up at Baros.
Baros lowered the bow, and narrowed his eyes towards Kratoras. The crowd below murmured at the disruption, and the king was led away. Back amongst the pile of rabble.
Turning back to face Tanasia, Baros handed the bow back to the archer. As he hung his head his long blonde hair flung about in the wind and slapped against this face. The flaps of his cloaks flowed about in the stiff breeze atop the wall.
Baros nodded to Arakos.
At the command, he pulled back his arms and let Tanasia run forward. Tears streamed down her face, snot ran from her nose, and her eyes were bloodshot red. She jerked towards him and drove her shoulder into his chest. He grunted at the impact and took a stagger step backwards as he leaned against the tall defensive parapet.
She pounded her fists into his chest and smacked him on the face. His cheeks grew hot and stinging as her hand continued to smite him. He took it. Every bit of it.
“You bastard. How could you? I hate you, Baros. You let her die. You bastard!” Her voice wavered as her sobs grew louder.
Every soldier atop the wall hung his head in mourning as the crowd below dispersed back to their camps beneath the trees. The sounds of clanking armor and shuffling feet echoed in the air. Tanasia was filled with fury and rage. Her grief was overcome by her anger, and it spilled out onto the only person she could give it—the only person who deserved it too—Baros.