Chapter ???

Nine horses rode along a broad country road.  Dense trees and underbrush lined the road to the left, while the right sloped down into wide fields.  Smoke drifted lazily from a farmhouse in the distance.  A magpie followed the riders in the branches above their heads, loudly calling at them to show his displeasure that they dare to ride through his territory without making an offering of crumbs.

At the back of the group, two boys laughed and joked with each other while between them a slightly older girl tried to ignore their attempts to impress her. 

At the head of the group, two knights rode side by side.  Their conversation was light, born of the familiarity of two soldiers who have ridden and fought together for many years.  Ser Boggs, whose helm bore the likeness of a golden lion, and who carried the Somercrag royal standard, told a ribald joke to a younger woman in the red and green livery of house Tallman, whose sudden bright laugh carried in the open air, scattering shocked songbirds from the treeline. 

In the middle, between her knights and the squires rides ser Sola Somercrag and the two members of house Hayford she was bringing to the capital to demonstrate their innocence.  These three were less talkative than the other groups.  The princess was somewhat relieved by this, ser Edam and Duke Brennar having spent much of the ride thus far complaining about not being present at Tayach Dam to see ser Edgarth rescued.  In comparison, the uncomfortable silence they had shared since beginning the second day's ride was an improvement. 

"Milady, if I may-" began ser Edam again.  Sola let out a sigh before cutting him off. 

"You may not, ser.  I know what you mean to ask.  My answer is still the same.  Your testimony will exonerate your lord, so you are needed in the capital. 

"And besides, the fighting at Tayach Dam is surely done now, for good or ill.  All being well, young ser Edgarth will be brought to Bayglen in time for this whole matter to be dealt with." 

Ser Edam muttered something to himself and returned to sullen silence, busying himself with fidgeting at the straps of his new armour.

At the head of the party ser Boggs reined in his horse as he rounded a bend in the road, calling out for the others to wait a moment before moving forward slowly.  In the middle of the pathway ahead a wagon lay askew, one of its wheels caught in a ditch and its massive axle snapped in half like a twig.  Crates and sacks were spilled out upon the road, and an old man and young girl stood distraught staring at their possessions littering the road.  To the right, the fence had been broken down where the wagon collided with it, and in the distance two cart horses could be seen still yoked to one another, grazing amongst a number of sheep. 

"Hail travellers, well met!" ser Boggs called down from his horse, one hand resting on the reins as the other held the royal banner high. 

The old man went to one knee when he saw the knight, and pulled the young girl down to a knee beside him.

"Good morrow milord.  My apologies, we'll have this stuff moved from your path in but a moment." 

Hearing the exchange, ser Sola spurred her horse to catch up to her knight.  When she lay her eye on the spilled cart she called back to the rest of her party. 

"This will go much quicker if we lend a hand.  Ser Alysia, take Miyah and Alvar and see if you can't round up those horses.  Lisbeth, maybe you have something in your pack that will steady this young lady?  The men and I will help to right your cart and load it for you." 

As ser Sola issued her orders she swung a leg over her saddle and slipped to the ground. 

"It won't get you moving again, but we'll send aid from Arrowbreach when we arrive tonight." 

She went to take the hand of the old man, shaking it and helping him to his feet.  Behind her the other knights were also now afoot, tying their reins to the fence and setting about their appointed tasks. 

The old man's hand tightened around hers, and when she met his eyes she found tears in his eyes.  Gratitude, no doubt. 

The world suddenly turned white, as a light bright enough to overpower the midday sun erupted from the wagon.  Ser Sola was thrown from her feet and her helm clattered against the stones of the road, bounced once and then fell away from her head.  As she tried to regain her feet, she realised she was still holding the hand of the old man, the tatters of his arm and sleeve stopping suddenly.  She dropped the severed limb in disgust and looked around.  The treeline was suddenly bursting with men, men in the liveries of House Hayford and House Crowler intermingled.  They rushed out of the trees, mouths hanging open, weapons readied.  Lady Sola stumbled, wondering why she couldn't hear her knights rallying, hear the screams of the men around her, hear the clash of steel on steel.  A man ran at her with a sharp spear poised to strike.  She drew her own sword to parry, but the movement seemed impossibly slow.  Every detail seemed to freeze in her mind.  The glint of flames on the tip of her opponent's spear, the spittle flying from his mouth as he charges, the tugging feeling in her gut… 

Looking down at her sword, she saw that her hands had instead closed around a large splinter of gaily painted wood, which penetrated between her breastplate and her fauld.  Blood poured out around the wound.  She hadn't even realised she had fallen to her knees.  The spearman charged past her, and as she turned to follow him her body instead fell sideways to the ground.  The spearman joined several of his fellows surrounding ser Boggs, who was desperately trying to fight from his knees, but was caught between four uninjured men.  Weapons rose and fell, and the knight went down.  Only when his body hit the floor did he finally relinquish his hold on the royal standard, which fell into the burning wreckage of the cart. 

Lady Sola's eyes drifted.  She could feel herself growing dim within her body, each breath an impossible effort.  Suddenly her eyes caught upon three figures in the field beyond the road.  Ser Alysia and the two squire boys. 

Please, please let them escape she willed, watching them ride away from the fighting.  But then from amongst the sheep in the field, several soldiers stood.  From this distance Lady Sola could not see the bolts fly through the air or hear the twang of the strings, but she saw the three figures fall from their horses. 

It is only when she heard her own hoarse scream that she realised her hearing is returning slowly.  She heard two voices in muffled conversation somewhere above her, but couldn't muster the strength even to turn her head and see the speakers. 

"All is……ser Kyra." 

"My thanks, ser……you played your part we…" 

"What of the Duke?  He……, what do you want done with him?" 

"Kill him.  His corpse……better than his tongue could." 

"By your command, ser." 

"Hey!  This one's still breathing!" 

There was the sound of footsteps, and a pair of boots stepped into Lady Sola's field of vision. 

She was suddenly yanked upright by fingers tangled in her hair.  The pain in her guts almost caused her to black out.  She recognised ser Kyra Crowler standing in front of her, the rest of the road littered with the bodies of dead men and knights.  In the distance, she could just make out the form of Duke Brennar slumped against a tree.  A figure approached him, drew back a sword and plunged it into his chest. 

"Bring me the Duke's sword!" Ser Kyra calls, and the figure bent down and did as she said, drawing the Duke's longsword from his belt before turning to bring it to the Lady Crowler. 

Sola desperately tried to focus, to gain command of her limbs, to curse the false knight in front of her.  Instead she watched helplessly as a man in House Hayford livery passed ser Kyra the sword, and ser Kyra raised it above her head to catch the sun…and then brought it down in an arc that ended in only blackness for ser Sola Somercrag.