Intrigue

The young woman followed rapidly behind the silent figure in front of her. Her passage through the dense forest was not as silent. Her hoarsebreathing was broken by sobs and her feet could not avoid snapping the branches that littered the forest floor. Her mind kept returning to the grisly scene she had left behind-her father and his lovely wife drenched in their own blood, knives protruding from their once unblemished flesh. As this image flashed before her minds eye, another sob broke through her closed throat.

“Don’t think about it right now!” The hissed command caught her by surprise and she tripped over her own feet. “I can’t help it,” she shot at the hand that now gripped her elbow. That hand belonged to the striking young man that followed her. He and his father had been visiting. The two men had hoped that the young people would get along, enough perhaps to make a relatively happy marriage. Neither would ever hope again.

As they continued to run flashes of what they had left broke through her consciousness. Her mother's screams. The blood spattered on the walls. That one horrifying moment when she thought the killers had found her and the feeling of relief that swept through her when she realized that the shadowy man beside her was a friend of a friend. The same that they now chased after. When he had first popped out of the shadows he had reassured her by telling her he worked for Nickayla and the Hand. Nickayla was her closest and dearest friend. His explanation had raised many questions.

But she couldn't dwell on the past. Not yet. They were not out of danger. Even as she stumbled along behind the dark figure, others could be heard all around. The occasional branch cracking or clang of metal. The flashes of fire light through the trees. Somehow, none of these others made it anywhere close to this strange trio. And eventually, the signs of their pursuers disappeared. For a while more they ran on, in the darkness and silence of the night.

“Finally.”

The barely spoken word brought the young woman out of her troubled thoughts and she glimpsed what had so relieved her companion. Light flickered between the thick trunks of the trees. Light meant fire. Hopefully, fire meant friends and relative safety, not more enemies. Hopefully…

That’s exactly what it was. The three burst into a clearing to be greeted by mugs of cider and a seat by the fire. All of this happened so quickly that it took her a moment to realize what, or rather whom, was missing.

Turning to her guide she asked, “Where is Nickayla?” The guide looked at her sharply, his brown eyes shadowed and his scarred face expressionless.

“Covering our escape.”

“Alone?!” This came from the young man, his smooth unblemished face showing surprise.

“Of course not. Her group numbers a dozen. She will explain the rest when she gets here.” With that, he left the two alone by the fire. Another of the group came over and pointed out which of the tents going up on the other side of the clearing were assigned to them. The woman hadn’t even noticed them before then. Silence descended over the camp, except for the crackling of the fire and rustle of the canvas tents as they went up. The woman glanced over to the young man sitting beside her. He was staring into the fire with a blank expression. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. That seemed to shock him out of his reverie.

“Of what?”

“That you had to visit during such a time. I didn’t even realize the people were this unhappy. I’m sorry you got involved.” He snorted and gave her a sad smile. “I should be the one to say sorry. I don’t think it was necessarily your people. Both of our families have enemies. They may not of attacked if my father and I hadn’t of been here. Two kings and both their heirs were just too good to pass up.”

“But who would want us dead so badly as to risk attacking us in our stronghold? They must have realized that it could not succeed.”

“It very nearly did, but I know what you mean. I wish I knew. Maybe your friend could tell us when she gets here. I’d like to know how she knew what was happening and why she didn’t warn anybody.” His dark green eyes were narrowed in suspicion and he was frowning into the fire. She didn’t want to think about that, to doubt her friend, but his suspicion rubbed off on her. After all, she didn’t know Nickayla could command anyone let alone a force this large. There were perhaps two dozen in this camp alone. What else didn’t she know?

The bustling activity behind them slowed down and they were joined by a few of the group. They didn’t say a word to the two highnesses, but talked among themselves. The feelings of being out of place, alone, and adrift that the princess had been denying since the scream broke the night suddenly became too much to bear. With a sob, she swept away and into her tent.

- - -

Nickayla and her group filtered wearily into the dim clearing. The moon was already on the second half of its nightly journey and she eyed it with envy. It was only responsible for moving across the sky. It saw much, but didn’t have to do anything about it.

The Hand she had left here seemed to have been busy. The ground was clear of debris, several tents stood silently to one side, a pile of deadwood sat near the fire, and a very large pot of savory smelling stew hung over the flame. The others in her group were like wolves, immediately surrounding the food source. Mickol, the Hand doling out the stew, was hard pressed to get it in bowls before the tired assassins took matters into their own hands.

Nickayla’s half smile vanished as she moved to stand next to her second, Charlie. Charlie had been in charge here, instead of at the palace with her.

“How’s Veronica, Charlie?”

He shook his head sadly and gave her a worried look. “Poor thing could barely breathe through the sobs when Shawney brought her in. That prince though, Janor is it? I think he’s in shock. Hardly seemed affected.” She frowned at that, they couldn’t afford for him to break down at the wrong moment.

“Nickayla, what happened out there?”

“They struck before schedule; they must have known that we had found out.” She didn’t have to tell him what that meant. “They weren’t very good though, just good enough to get past the Royal Guard. They stuck out like beacons for people who knew what to look for.” They had been patches of shadow too dark to be normal. The knives of The Hand easily cut through them and a little over a dozen of the intruders were dead before their fellows even noticed, not that it helped them any. They had been counting on their stealth to keep them out of fighting, and so were only moderately good at hand to hand combat. The member’s of the Hand Nickayla had taken with her were expert fighters. The only reason why they had taken so long to return was that there were ten times as many intruders as Hand. Some of them fled and had to be tracked down in the blackness of the night. Nickayla had cursed the waning moon many times.

“There were more than there needed to be. They’re employer wanted to be sure they got the job done.”

“But they still couldn’t beat the Hand.” The pride in his voice was evident.

“If we hadn’t of gotten their highnesses out of there when we did, they wouldn’t have had to. Their lives were not as important as the job.” She shuddered and when she spoke next, her voice was filled with disgust. “It was overkill, Charlie. There were enough poisoned knives in them to kill a whole herd of horses. These ‘assassins’ had no skill.” She paused a moment and surveyed the group around the fire. They had settled themselves to shoveling food into their gaping mouths between yawns. They had fought well tonight. She would have to think of some way to make sure they knew how much she appreciated their efforts. However, that could wait for tomorrow, as could everything else. There was only so much a person could accomplish in one night.

“I’m going to sleep.”

“Night, Kayla.” Her only reply was an exhausted grunt.

The sun rose the next morning on a typical camp scene. Tents were strewn on one side of a clearing in a seemingly half-hazard fashion and a fire smoldered on one side of the whole mess. A few people were wandering around, but most were still asleep. Not so typically, there was a king tossing in one of the plain tents. He was indistinguishable from the four other men that shared his sleeping quarters. A few meters away, in another tent, a queen cried in her sleep, plagued by a nightmare escape that had been all too real. She also shared a tent with four other people, this time women. One of those stirred and woke, before crawling over to the queen’s side.

“Veronica. Veronica, wake up hun.” Nickayla shook Veronica’s shoulder as she cooed to her. Before long, her efforts were rewarded with a headache as Veronica shot upwards and banged her head into Nickayla’s.

“Oh, no! I’m so sorry, Kayla! Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah fine. I wasn’t really using that anyways.” Nickayla grimaced as she rubbed her throbbing forehead. She hadn’t been using that, because she was asleep. Unlike some people, she didn’t have nightmares. Of course, she didn’t witness her parents’ gruesome death last night either. Go easy on her Kayla. “Come on, I think I smell breakfast.”

The two women left the tent and made their way across the clearing to the fire where a figure bent over the bubbling contents of a large pot. As they drew closer the figure resolved itself as Daniel, one of the lower level Hands. He grinned at Nickayla as she walked up. “Hiya, boss lady! I didn’t expect you up so early.”

“Neither did I.”

“My fabulous cooking woke you up didn’t it?” A snort behind them made the two Hands reach for their weapons and the princess jump. The man who startled them burst out laughing at their reactions. Veronica remembered him from last night; he was one of the men who met them when they arrived. “So jumpy,” he seemed to be looking more at her than the other two, “A note a' warnin' about the ‘fabulous’ cookin': it smells better than it tastes.”

“Hey! It tastes just fine, thank you very much! At least I’m still allowed to cook. Didn’t Charlie forbid you from touching any cooking supplies, Cory?” Cory plopped down onto one of the logs by the fire with a lazy grin. “I mighta’ exaggerated a tad ‘bout my lacka' cookin’ skills. It ain’t my favorite past time.”

The two women had joined Cory as he talked and now Nickayla waved her hand in front of his face. “Hello! You probably shouldn’t have said that in front of me. I can override Charlie.”

“If you do, I’ll make everyone puke for days.”

“If you do, I’ll put you on scribe duty for months.” Cory winced and raised his hands. “You win ‘Kayla. What ya want?”

Now it was Nickayla’s turn to do the lazy grin as she began to eat. “I don’t know yet, but you’ll be the first to know when I do.”

Veronica, who had been following all of this rather closely, was a little confused. Who was Charlie and how could ‘Kayla override him? What exactly was she to this group? How did they know to help last night? She was about to ask these questions when they heard footsteps behind them. Veronica looked around and noticed Janor walking towards them. He didn’t look so well. His clothes were rumpled, his hair tousled, and his eyes bloodshot. Veronica glanced at Kayla, but she hadn’t looked up. Janor walked around and sat next to the princess with a hard look at Nickayla, whose eyes were still glued to her bowl. He accepted a bowl of gruel from the cook, but just stared at it as if he had forgotten how to eat.

“You pick up the spoon, use it to pick up some food, and transfer that food from the spoon into your mouth. Chew then Swallow.” The prince snapped his head back up to the cook with a ready frown.

“Daniel, don’t play with them yet. Give them some time.”

“Sorry, ‘Kayla.”

Janor’s frown transferred to Nickayla and he studied her for a few moments. “See something interesting, Your Highness?”

“You’re Nickayla, Veronica’s friend in the Hand?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you for last night. It was very convenient for us that you were there to help us in our time of need.”

“Anything for Veronica.”

“Almost too convenient.” Veronica gasped and murmured, “Janor!” Daniel and Cory froze in their seats and looked warily at Nickayla.

She paused in her eating and slowly looked up at the prince. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I don’t trust you. You’re a thief, a murderer, a liar, and a trickster.”

“And what are you?”

“What do you mean, what am I? I’m a prince! A member of the ruling family of Vorenal!” Janor had stood up and was now towering over Nickayla, who was calmly watching him. Her expression was closed and unreadable. It made Veronica shudder. She had never seen her friend so cold. Nickayla reminded her of someone when she was like this.

“Are you? Prove it.”

The prince gaped at her, speechless. That was apparently all the answer she needed, because one eyebrow rose. “Exactly. What is it about you, other than your birth, which makes you a prince? I am many things, boy, but at least I know what I am and have the means to back it up! I serve this kingdom in my own way, because I believe we all have parts to play. You have been raised to be king, and I think you might actually do a good job at it, but you’re going to have to figure out who you can trust. ‘Cause you have to trust somebody, you can’t do this on your own. Figure it out, Prince. Figure out what you really are and who you can trust not to steal from you, murder you, lie to you, or trick you. Then you can come talk to me about what I am.”

With one last stare into the prince’s eyes, Nickayla spun and walked back into the tent. Veronica had finally remembered who ‘Kayla reminded her of. She was like her mother, the late queen, when speaking to one of the court ladies that had displeased her. Apparently, while thinking this, Veronica had been looking at Janor. He was still reeling from ‘Kayla’s talking to, but snapped when he saw the look on her face. “Don’t tell me you agree with her!”

“There is a lot about Nickayla that you don’t know.”

“I can say the same to you!”

“I know she saved my life and that she has been by my side since I can remember. I know that I can trust her out of everybody I have left alive. That is all I need to know.” She turned her back on the prince and went after ‘Kayla, leaving Janor staring after her. The two Hands gave him mixed looks of distaste and sympathy. It was Cory who spoke first.

“Mate, word of advice? Don’t turn on ‘Kayla when she’s tryin’ to help. She might just stop tryin’ and you’ve no idea how much she’s protectin’ you from.”

“Is it such a bad thing to want to know what’s going on? My life has been turned upside down and that woman may have some of the answers. I want to know what she knows and what she’s doing about it. I have people relying on me, people who probably think I’m dead, and I’m sitting in a camp with people I don’t know!!” Janor had taken to pacing during his speech and was now running his hands through his hair. He looked, to the two men watching him, just a little crazed.

Daniel eased up to the prince’s side and put a hand on his shoulder. “Friend? Tell Nickayla what you just told us, only nicer. She’s not a bad person. She will listen and maybe even answer your questions, but you have got to treat her with respect. If you’re rude to her, she’ll just shut you out and you’ll never learn anything.”

The two men stared at each other before Janor gave in. He looked away with a nod. “Alright, but I expect to be treated with equal respect.”

“Equal’s the key word, mate. Don’t look down on any of us, but ‘specially not ‘Kayla. Treat us like equals. ‘Cause where I’m standin’ mate, you ain’t a prince anymore an’ you ain’t a king yet.”