The Greater Challenge Beyond (The Southern Continent Series Book 3) Page 5

  Chapter 5

  They awoke in the early afternoon, following too little sleep. They were pressed against each other, Grange's arms around Hope, who had her face buried against his shoulder.

  "Hope, wake up. Do you want something to eat?" Grange asked.

  She sat up as he did, and looked around in confusion until she recollected their situation.

  "We're still free," she stated. "What do you have?" she asked as Grange unlaced his pack to access the contents.

  "We've got this and this," he handed her two small portions of food. He'd only had barely enough for himself to begin, and now it would have to last longer for two people.

  She looked at him. "Thank you for sharing," she seemed to understand the situation, and ate her portion silently and quickly.

  After they finished they stood and resumed trotting due north. They moved throughout the afternoon and well into the night. As they traveled, trees began to appear in the landscape, and Grange was convinced that the air around them felt warmer.

  They didn't talk. Grange had little to tell the girl, until he finally stopped for the night, in a small patch of trees atop a gentle slope.

  "I think it's safe to say you're free, Princess Hope," he told her with a mock formality, and a smile.

  "Oh Grange, those are the happiest words I've heard in days!

  "In the name of the Kingdom of Southgar, I award you the title of Royal Protector," she said in a serious tone, and Grange could see the serious expression on her face. "I name you as my own knight, to be housed at the palace as my own guard," she said.

  "If you want to be," she added with an anxious note.

  "I'm sure it would be an honor," he answered. "I don’t know exactly what else I'm supposed to do when we get to Southgar, but if I can, I'd be honored to protect you," he told her.

  "Can you fight?" Hope asked forthright.

  Grange sat down and opened his pack to pull out their evening ration.

  "I can fight pretty well," he assured her as he handed her the small amount of nourishment.

  They slept, they arose the next morning, and they traveled all day, going northeast. And by sunset they began to pass farm cottages, and even small, rough manor homes.

  "Should I turn you over to the local gentry?" Grange asked as they walked on a small country lane, no longer confronted by untamed bushes, and walking side by side.

  "Not in this duchy," Hope answered quickly. "My father's true allies are further north.

  "I don’t think there would be any problem, but we'd be smarter to not take chances," she advised.

  They slept that night in a barn, under a roof for the first time Grange could remember since his awakening at Yellow Spring.

  The air was cool but not frigid, and they slept apart, though Grange secretly missed the contact with the girl, and he was pleased when he awoke in the morning and found that they were together again.

  "This is the last food we have," he told her when he distributed their crumbs of rations after sunrise.

  "By tonight we'll have a good meal - maybe a feast!" Grace said cheerfully. "Just hold that thought. We'll have beds to sleep in and even baths to soak in!"

  Rain started falling in the mid-morning and drenched them all along their course through the countryside of Southgar. They ducked under trees and when they reached a village, they stood under the eaves of the buildings to let their clothing drip away the worst of the moisture, before they started slogging through the sloppy, muddy farm tracks.

  The rain stopped and the sun came out just when Hope pointed across the green fields surrounding them.

  "That's it!" Hope exclaimed. "That's my uncle's castle. We'll be home in just a few minutes!" She grabbed Grange's hand to pull him across the fields on a direct line towards the structure, but slipped on the wet clay and splashed into the muddy water of the roadside ditch.

  "Grange, help me!" she laughed, and Grange lifted her upright.

  When they arrived at the castle gate, the servant tried to chase them away. They looked like tramps, disreputable and filthy. Grange stood by, grinning and uncomprehending as Hope argued with the man at the gate, but his demeanor instantly changed when the castle man placed his hand on Hope's chest and pushed her back.

  He pulled his sword and had the point pressed against man's throat a second later.

  "Apologize to the princess," he growled.

  "Grange, no," he heard Hope order and he felt her hand on his shoulder, as he stared into the startled eye of the man he faced.

  "He has to apologize first," Grange said through gritted teeth. A shadow appeared behind his captive.

  "Grange, let him go. The archers are aiming at you," Hope said urgently.

  Grange dropped the point of his sword, stepped back, and looked up, where he saw a pair of men with bows, arrows pointed at him.

  "Pa ruffians ydym wedi darfu ar yr heddwch?” a voice asked.

  Hope spoke loudly in response, and within moments a man pressed the servant out of the doorway. He stared at Hope, then exclaimed loudly and enfolded her in a hug, as the girl burst into tears.

  Grange stood off to the side, observing the reunion for a moment, until Hope and her uncle split apart.

  "Uncle," she spoke in Grange's language once again, "this is Grange. I have named him as my own Royal Protector. He's the man who rescued me and brought me to safety," she explained.

  "I am pleased to welcome my niece's Protector. You've been given a title of great honor," the man turned to Grange and held out his hand.

  Grange extended his own hand to grasp the nobleman's, and as he did, the two sized each other up.

  The Uncle's eyes grew wide as he studied Grange's face, and he released his grip.

  "How did you two meet?" he asked in a stern voice. "And why are we speaking in this barbarous tongue?"

  "I'm sure it would be much more pleasant to hold this discussion after we bathe and eat," Hope said warmly, “we've had a journey you won't believe!"

  The nobleman looked at Hope, then at Grange. "Of course. My dear," he opened the door wide and motioned for the two to enter, while he called loudly in the native language, bringing a trio of servants scurrying from hallways to approach. Grange turned his back to the servant he had held his sword to, and followed Hope inside.

  There was a brief conversation, then Hope turned to Grange to translate.

  "We're going to go to separate rooms to bathe and change, then we'll meet again to eat in an hour," she told Grange. "You should follow Mira," she explained, and motioned towards a female servant.

  "I don't really have any other clothes to change into," Grange informed her in a low voice, embarrassed for the first time by the evidence and admission of his poverty.

  "They'll provide something suitable," Hope told him with a smile and a quick comment to Mira.

  The servant girl smiled politely at Grange, gave a brief bob, then motioned for him to follow. Grange obliged and started to climb the massive stone stairs the servant ascended.

  "Thank you Grange! You saved my life," Hope called to him.

  He smiled at the words all the way up the stairs and into the room that Mira showed him.

  He closed the door, then gave a sigh of relief. He was alone for the first time in days, in a comfortable and friendly home for the first time, about to eat a warm meal for the first time.

  Those thoughts missed the mark, he told himself. There was a hint of something in the uncle's demeanor that wasn't exactly friendly. It was unclear what and why, though undoubtedly, delivering the princess in such a dismal state of appearance hadn't spoken well for his service as a Royal Protector for those who didn't know the epic tale of the journey to reach the castle.

  Grange heard a knock at the door just before it opened and several servants entered carrying steaming buckets of water, which they quickly and quietly emptied into the tub in the bathing chamber.

  Several minutes later, after Grange finished soaking and scrubbing in the tub, he returned t
o the outer chamber and found a set of green and red clothes waiting for him. He dressed in the outfit, noting that it was slightly mismatched, but understanding that the clothes had been collected on the spur of the moment to meet his immediate needs.

  When he opened his door he found that an armed guard had been assigned to serve as his guide down to the dining room. “Lead on,” Grange said in a friendly tone.

  The man looked at him. “You’ll wear that?” he asked, hesitating as he spoke in Grange’s language.

  “It’s better than what I wore on the way here,” Grange admitted. If he thought he was likely to spend any time in Southgar, he’d have to learn to speak their language, he told himself.

  The guard hesitated, then shrugged, then took the lead, going down to the dining room, where Hope, her uncle, and a pair of others were already waiting around a table.

  “Grange!” Hope said with some hint of distress in her voice. “What outfit are you wearing?” she asked.

  “It was the best one available,” he said blithely. “Your clothes look nice,” he added, as he noted the blue, white, and silver gown she had changed to. It provided a startling alteration in her appearance, confirming her claim that she was a princess, though Grange had never doubted it, as she had an indisputably regal air about her.

  She motioned for Grange to circle around the table to join her, and he obediently complied.

  “This is my uncle, Goala, the Earl of Skengare, and his sons, my cousins, Oehla and Skore,” she motioned to each of the three with her. Grange had met Skengare at the castle gate, an older man who was true to the Southgar archetype of pale, light-haired, and thin. Oehla was heavier than his father, but similar, while Skore had a head of thick auburn hair that differentiated him from the others in his family.

  “He’s my father’s brother,” Hope explained as each of the men stuck hands out and shook with Grange.

  “Where did you two meet? Where have you been?” Goala asked.

  “Let’s be seated, uncle. I’m famished!” Hope insisted. “We’ll tell you the whole story while we eat.”

  Grange was pointed to a seat across from Hope, as Goala sat at the table’s head and the two sons, each slightly older than Grange, sat on the sides of the table as well. Servants delivered plates of warm bread, which all the diners immediately began to eat.

  “It started when Acton spoke to me in a dream, and told me to rescue Jenniline,” Hope began her story. Oehla guffawed around his mouthful of bread, spewing crumbs across the table.

  “I snuck south to find her,” Hope ignored the action, “but I was caught in the near wilderness by the Bloomingians.

  “They took me captive and held me, and they said they were going to force me to marry the Bloomingian pretender to the throne,” she explained.

  The men all looked at Grange, who shook his head sorrowfully.

  “They said it was going to be their way to restore their line to the throne,” she explained.

  “They told me that she would either be married or they would ransom her for money and weapons,” Grange interjected. “I couldn’t stand the thought of that.”

  “Grange came to my tent, and we talked, and then he came back and smuggled me out at night,” Hope resumed her story. “Then we traveled for four, almost five days to get here, and now we’re safe,” she smiled. “Thanks to Grange.”

  “So you’re from the Bloomingian camp?” Goala asked Grange.

  “No, I was walking through the wilderness on my way to Southgar, and got swept up by the Bloomingians. I didn’t know their camp was there,” Grange answered.

  “Traveling through the southern wilderness? From where?” Skore asked skeptically, as a large dish of wide noodles was delivered to the table.

  “I met Jenniline at the Yellow Spring. I drank the water there, and now I don’t remember anything,” Grange answered directly.

  “So you were traveling with Jenniline?” Oehla asked.

  “For a while,” Grange answered. “But we split up. I couldn’t travel as fast as she could. She left Hot Springs a day before I did,” he told them.

  “And they told this story to you too, about how they found this wandering boy in the wilderness?” Goala asked Hope, as platters of sliced meat were also added to the table.

  “Well, Grange told me some, and they said some of the same, and I just heard a little more here,” she answered. “He told me about Jenniline in the wilderness. He knew that Trensen was with her before he died.”

  “Trensen’s dead?” all three men looked at Grange. “How could that be?” Goala asked in a hollow voice.

  Grange hesitated. He didn’t want to describe how the others in the group had been possessed by the small demons. It wasn’t a believeable story, he knew, though he’d lived through it.

  “It was an accident,” Grange tried to gloss it over. “All three of them, Burr, Trensen, Anthel, they all died, and I was injured,” he lamely tried to explain.

  “What kind?” Oehla started to ask, before his father waved him off.

  “So what are your plans now?” Goala asked Hope instead.

  “I want to go home to the palace. I figured Grange could escort me there, since he’s my Protector,” she smiled between words and bites of food, as she tried to sample every dish that had flowed to the table during the conversation.

  “Is he a good fighter, then?” Skore asked. “Did you see him fight?”

  “No, we were never detected while we escaped, and so he never had to fight. But he’s pretty good, he told me,” she asserted.

  “Will you have his child?” Oehla asked, shocking the room into silence.

  “Well, I mean,” the young man put down the tumbler of ale he had been drinking. “With all this talk of marrying and breeding and all, I just wondered what the two of you did in the wilderness together all those nights.”

  “That’s rude,” Grange couldn’t prevent himself from saying. He pushed his chair noticeably back from the table. “She’s a lady and I’m a gentleman. We did nothing of that order.”

  “I apologize for my son,” Goala said immediately, as he stared at Oehla. “He didn’t phrase the question well.

  “We’re just glad you’re here,” the uncle said to Hope. “And we’re glad you’ve brought her safely to us,” he said to Grange.

  “Now, I’m sure that after your long day, you’d like to return to your rooms and get some rest,” he said. He motioned to a servant, and an attractive girl entered from the shadows of the hallway. “Here is Morine; she’ll escort our guest to his room,” Goala stood and motioned for the serving girl to come next to Grange.

  “We’ll take Hope back to her room, and chat along the way,” he added. “Please lead on, and enjoy your evening in our home,” he said to Grange.

  “Come with me,” Morine said to Grange.

  He turned and bowed to Hope. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked the question as much as he stated a fact, feeling a strange sense of uncertainty about what was going to happen next.

  “Most certainly, Knight Protector!” Hope smiled at him.

  Morine led him back through the halls of the castle to his room. When they reached his door, she stopped and knelt down to pick up a wine bottle and two glasses that had been left in front of his door.

  “The castle is offering you its fullest hospitality,” she told him with an odd smile, a forced expression it seemed. “Shall we go in and drink a toast to your arrival?”

  “”Thank you,” Grange prevaricated, feeling both exhausted, and reluctant to invite the girl into his room. “I could go to sleep this instant without a drop of wine to drink.”

  “This is from the best vineyard in the region. You owe it to the Earl to at least try a glass,” Morine pressed. She boldly opened the door. “I’d like a chance to hear about your adventures, besides,” she added with another forced smile.

  Grange followed her into the room. She opened the wine bottle and set it on a side table after filling the two glasses. “Here�
�s a toast to your arrival,” she told Grange in a soft voice, after she handed a glass of wine to him. She stood close, and when she raised her toast, her face was just inches from his. He raised his own glass, and following a soft clink of the ceramic goblets, they each took a sip of their wine.

  “Drink up,” Morine insisted as she stepped back. “We want the lord to know that we appreciate the gift of this wine.”

  Grange politely took another sip of the wine, and as he did, Morine reached over and tipped the bottom of the goblet higher, so that the ruby red contents gushed forward into Grange’s mouth, while some flowed onto his cheek and dripped down onto his chin. He desperately gulped down the liquid in his mouth to overcome the deluge.

  “Forgive me please! That was just too tempting,” Morine said contritely. “Here,” she lifted the bottle and poured more into Grange’s glass. “Just have a bit more.”

  “You can take the bottle with you,” Grange answered. He felt tired, even more tired after drinking the wine, his mind feeling fuzzier. He wanted the girl to simply leave, so that he could sprawl upon his bed and descend into a restful sleep at last. “I don’t want any more.”

  “Just drink this bit,” she urged, as she pressed his hand and the goblet it held towards his mouth. “And then it will be bed time.”

  “Just drink this and then you’ll leave so that I can go to bed?” Grange asked owlishly.

  “Yes dear, just drink all of this in one swallow and you’ll be done for the night,” she assured him in a sweet voice.

  Grange swallowed the wine, then felt his grasp on the goblet start to weaken. The room was spinning, as he felt Morine take his hand and lead him over towards the bed.

  The goblet fell from his grasp, just before he sat on the mattress.

  “You just lie down and sleep,” Morine told him. His eyes fluttered open and shut, watching her as she looked down on him with a satisfied expression, then walked away. And that was the last thing he saw before he fell profoundly asleep.