Chapter 1

The warrior stood, legs spread wide apart, prepared, it seemed, for combat. In one hand he held a long silver bladed sword with an intricately designed bronze hilt. In the other, he gripped a dagger with jewels embedded in the shining hilt. His shoulder-length red hair danced restlessly about his face in the silent wind. His beard, slightly darker, was neatly trimmed, covering only his chin. His dark face showed small scars and his hands were worn, but strong on the weapons. The muscles rippled under his skin. His heavy leather vest, intricately designed with symbols and pictures covered his broad shoulders and chest.

I stood not far away, taking it in. Slowly the warrior raised his sword and pointed the blade right at me. Amy hand moved to point at my own chest, questioning in my eyes as I faced the warrior’s sword. He nodded. I felt myself quake slightly. I shook my head, fearfully. The warrior nodded again, more firmly and threw his sword at my feet. He turned and walked into the endless white fog. I dropped to my knees, running my hands over the smooth, cold blade. The visions were growing clearer…

The shrieking call sounded about the cool summer air just as dawn broke over the blue forms of the mountains. Shaken suddenly from the distant dream, I jumped and instinctively sat up straight only to feel my head hit the low ceiling above me with a resounding thud. I groaned and fell back onto my pillow, cursing the wretched rooster who’d called me from my sleep.

I groaned again and quickly dressed. I was silent as I descended the narrow stairway hidden by what appeared to most to be a closet door. I opened the door and crept down a hallway containing more doors, these ones leading to comfortable bedrooms. At the end of the hallway was another staircase, this one completely visible to anyone below. I came to the bottom of this one more quickly than I had the last one.

At the bottom was the bar room, crowded with small, round tables and chairs. I hurried across the room and through the door on the other side and into the kitchen on the other side. As with the stairs, hallway, and bar room, the kitchen was deserted.

I walked briskly out of the back door in the kitchen and across the small, grassy yard to the small barn-like building. The morning air was cool and light. Even in mid August, the air was slightly chilly. Our village, Hollick’s Rise, was nestled deep into the peaceful North Range.

There was no wind and the sky was clear. The gray world was still morphing from the dark of night to green and gold. I reached the barn and pulled the door out toward me. Immediately, I was greeted by the low, moaning call of the little dairy cow. I rolled my eyes. “Stop whining, you little beast. I’m coming.” She shook her head impatiently as I pulled the rickety, three-legged stool and tin milk pail beside her.

I tugged at her bulging utter until the pail was filled to the brim with warm milk and sweet cream. I was tempted by the warmth of the tantalizing, creamy milk. Just this once I could taste it. My master would never know, not if I was careful. I reached out to stick a finger into the pail when the cow mooed again. I jumped, only then realizing how tense I felt. “Oh, hush up, you old milk sack!” I scolded, “It’s only a bit anyhow. No one would ever know.” She mooed again and turned her head away.

I sighed and picked up the milk pail and stool. I placed them outside of her stall and went to get some fresh hay and a pitchfork to clean the stall.

By the time I left the barn, the sun had risen another finger width into the sky. I walked slower now, careful not to spill the fresh milk that I had never tasted. As I walked back toward the back kitchen door, I heard my name called.

“Rauna! Get in here!” I looked up at the open kitchen door to see my mistress, Silene in the doorway.

“I’m coming, Mistress,” I called back.

“Well, hurry up! We need that milk now.” She left the doorway and I tried to quicken my pace without spilling any milk.

I reached the open door and stepped into the heat of the kitchen. Thanks to the oven, it was always sweltering into the kitchen during the summer season. I did not close the door. Silene stood by the oven, pulling out a pan of perfectly baked biscuits. She did not look up as I entered. “What’s been taking you, girl?” she asked coldly.

“I’m sorry, Mistress,” I said, quietly, “The cow would not leave her stall.”

“Yes, that’s just like you, ungrateful creature,” Silene mustered, putting the pan of biscuits down on the wooden counter, “to blame everything on the cow. Simply ungrateful.”

I took her criticism silently. I took a tray from the cupboard and filled it with mugs. I filled each mugs to the brim with hot cider form the keg and took the tray into the bar room. As I pushed the door open, the sounds of voices filled my ears. Several of the men and a few women were gathered around the tables, talking loudly. I went around with the tray, giving out cider. Several conversations flew about the room, but few were interesting enough to catch my attention. When I returned to the kitchen, my master, Raman had awakened and sat at the small table in the kitchen where Silene served him biscuits and cider. He looked up as I entered. “Rauna take the guests some biscuits,” ordered Silene. I did as I was told silently.

After breakfast, all of the guests departed and I was left alone to clean the messy bar room. An inviting wind floated in through the open front door. I laid my broom aside and went to stand in the doorway. The old sign reading, ‘Red Feather Inn and Tavern’ creaked in the gentle wind. I leaned against the doorframe, a sigh escaping my lips. Everything was so peaceful and quiet that I thought I’d scream. Why did my life have to be so boring? Every morning I woke up, milked the cow, and spent the rest of the day serving the guests and cleaning. Why could I disobey my master? Just once? Why didn’t I run away, and find a place where I would be more than the innkeepers bond servant? Why…

I shook my head and reprimanded myself harshly. What had gotten into me? All my life, I’d been taught to obey. I had never even thought treason against my master. The thought of running away had never even entered my mind. Bond servants who fled were hunted down and punished severely.

I shook my head again, waking from my daydreams. I turned back to finish the long task of cleaning the bar room. There were always many guests at this time of year. The road through Hollick’s Rise was the fastest route through the North Range. Many of the travelers were trader, coming once or twice a year to sell their wares deep in the heart of the kingdom. They always came through in the early spring and all through the summer. As winter neared, due to the fact that Hollick’s Rise was near the northern border of the kingdom.

I swept the floor and wiped the tables clean. When I finally returned to the kitchen, it was clean. When I finally returned to the kitchen, it was noon. Some of the guests were returning and I found Silene already preparing a lunch for them. “You took long enough,” she said in her usual, grumbling voice.

“I’m sorry, Mistress,” I said, quietly. I did not make an excuse because I knew that excuses were futile when Silene was angry (which she usually was).

“And no reason why? Do you think I’m stupid? Out with it now. What have you been messing up?” I held back and angry sigh, and tried hard not to roll my eyes in exasperation. To please this woman was completely impossible!

“Nothing,” I muttered.

Silene just shrugged, muttering, “As if I’ll believe that.” She wiped her hands on her white apron. “Take the pastries from the oven.” She left the room without a word. I used a kitchen towel to shield my hand from the heat of the oven as I took out a pan of freshly baked pastries. My mouth watered as I placed them on the counter. Melted sugar sparkled like frost on the golden surfaces of the pastries. Silene wasn’t pleasant to be around, but her cooking was more than tolerable. I licked my lips, but dared not touch one. Silene would undoubtedly notice if one went missing. I frowned and began sweeping the kitchen floor. I was not myself today.

Silene returned with Raman close behind her. The two were bickering over something or other as usual. I tuned out the argument, as I tried to figure out what was wrong with me today. First the milk, then the thoughts of treason, now the pastry… They were small things, but they seemed very significant, especially with my dull lifestyle. Was it a dream I’d had? I knew I’d had a dream the night before, but I couldn’t remember it. What had it been about? I did not hear Silene say my name the first time. “Rauna!” she said again. I jerked out of my daze. “What do you think you’re doing?” Silene asked, “There are guests waiting to be served. Hurry, now. Some new guests just arrived. They’re a mean looking bunch too,” she added speaking to her husband, Raman more than to me. He shrugged without looking up at her, earning himself a look that would intimidate a bear.

I took the tray full of mugs once again to go into the bar room. This time, however, the mugs were filled with something other than cider. I wrinkled my nose at the smell of it. “Rum?” I asked Silene, knowing that she and Raman highly disapproved of it.

She shrugged. “They requested it.” I would never understand a man’s craving form such an awful substance. I’d never tasted it myself, but just from the smell, I knew I’d never want to.

I braced myself as I entered the noisy room and saw the rowdy bunch at the table. I almost dropped my tray when I noticed their armor, on which was engraved the King’s signet. Soldiers! Would it have killed Silene to warn me? I scowled inwardly. I approached their table in the corner of the room and began to silently pass out the mugs. The soldiers looked up as I approached. A couple of them shouted out catcalls. I kept a straight, impassive expression, solemnly trying to ignore the jibes that flew my way. I was pretty and I knew it. Working at the inn, this was often more of a curse than anything else.

I passed the mugs out to the rest of the guests and hurried back to the kitchen, forcing myself not to run. Once inside, I did not hurry to refill the tray with pastries. I took a couple spare mugs, these full of cider, and once again went into the bar room. As I passed out pastries, one of the soldiers called, “Oi, bar girl! Over ‘ere!” I turned and walked to their table. He smiled, stupidly. I could tell that he was already drunk. “Fill me mug again, will ya?” he asked in a slurred voice. I said nothing, reaching out to take the mug form his extended hand.

Another soldier reached out and caught my wrist. “What’s this now?” he asked, a drunken grin spread across his face, “No smile for a tired traveler? Come on, girl, let’s have it!”

I kept my face straight. “Release my hand, sir. I haven’t the time for this.”

The soldier turned to face his fellows, not letting go. “Not the time,” he repeated in mock hurt, earning laughs from the others. “I think you have the time.”

“Let go now or else,” I warned quietly, but loud enough that not only he could hear.

The men roared with laughter. “Or else what?” laughed the man who held my arm. “Will you spit at us? Or perhaps you might burn my food!” The room filled once again with raucous laughter. My patience wore thin. On my right hand the tray still sad. In one quick movement, I dropped the tray and drew a dirk form the apron pocket. I slashed it across the back of the soldier’s hand. He released me with a yelp of pain and surprise.

I felt myself shake slightly as I realized what I’d done. Two other soldiers rose, fists clenched. “Teach you a lesson,” one of them said, “We’ll teach you to…”

I felt a hand come out from behind me and push me back. Raman stood in front of me, shielding me from the soldiers. “All right, now,” he warned, “I want you out of my inn. All of you. Go!” The soldiers filed out, staggering slightly as they walked. I tried not to listen to the curse they muttered.

When they had slammed the door behind them, and the guests had started to go uneasily back to their business, I stuffed the dirk back in my pocket and dropped to my knees to clean up the mess created by my dropping the tray, as well as the few flecks of blood on the wooden floor. Raman took me by the shoulder. I looked up into his face, which was dark with anger. “Into the kitchen, Rauna,” he ordered. I didn’t need to be told twice. I stood and ran into the kitchen, closing the door behind me. I heard several guests laughing, but ignored them. If Silene had not been standing over me with her hands on her hips and her face also dark with anger, I might have simply dropped to the floor and cried. “What happened, Rauna?” she demanded.

I opened my mouth to speak, but at that moment, Raman came bursting in the room, seething with anger. “Rauna, you fool!” he thundered, “You blasted fool! How could you…you… those were the King’s soldiers!”

“I’m sorry, Master,” I said, “I was frightened, I...”

“And the knife!” he shouted, “Where is it?”

I drew the dirk form my pocket and held it out to him. His voice grew quieter. “No, Rauna, you keep it. Goodness knows when you might need it again.”

I spoke quietly, trying to keep my voice from trembling. “I am sorry, Master… thank you.”

He sighed and laid his head in his hand. “Go, now, Rauna.” I turned and left the room. As I stumbled up the first staircase, I felt a wave of both dread and relief sweep over me. I’d put off feeling both of then and I felt myself tremble slightly. After the eternity it seemed to take to reach my bedroom, I collapsed into my bed and fell into an exhausted sleep.