The Fair Warrior Read online

  The Fair Warrior

  Laer Carroll

  Copyright © 2018 by L. E. Carroll

  Books by Laer Carroll

  The Eons-Lost Orphan

  The Once-Dead Girl

  The Super Olympian: Bloodhound

  The Super Olympian: Mystic Warrior

  Sea Monster's Revenge

  Shapechanger's Birth

  Shapechanger's Progress

  Shapechanger's Destiny

  (forthcoming)

  The Fair Warrior

  On a fair day in Mae came a horse tripping, tripping, up the winding road up the hill to Castle Landesbank Overlook. Riding it was a knight. Behind came a two-wheeled cart pulled by a mule. And behind that a palfrey. So much was apparent despite the sun setting behind the figures.

  At first glance Squire Antebes, commanding the gate guards from the walkway above the gates, took the newcomer to be Sir Holdes. Squinting he could see that the horse was the same big chestnut with its peculiar auburn mane, the saddle and other leathers was stained oxblood, and the barding was crimson with gold edging. And Sir Holdes had ridden out only a few weeks ago and was due back within the next few days.

  But, when the figure came closer and rode a little way aside from the glare of the setting sun and stopped in the slanting light in front of the gate, Antebes could see that it was not Holdes. It was a stranger. Squinting, he saw that it was a woman!

  "Ho, the gate!"

  The voice was that of a woman, too, though a warm contralto that could have been mistaken for a man's. And it was strong enough to be heard from thirty or so feet below.

  "Advance and identify yourself."

  The woman rode up almost to the gate itself, peering all about with great interest, finally looking up at the squire.

  "I am Maelgyreyt."

  "Maelwhat, of what? Of where?"

  "Just Maelgyreyt."

  "What do you want?"

  "I must speak the ruler of the castle."

  "Lord Harkon has no interest in talking to a whore." For such she must be. She wore an immodest armless dress that was split down the middle and rode astraddle, though oddly with no showing of any part of the leg except the feet. Though that was indecent enough.

  "I'm not a whore. And I have the property of one who, I've been told, was one of the Lord's knights."

  A bulky cluster of objects was piled in the cart. It looked like a suit of armor and might, from appearance, be Holdes' gear.

  Then her phraseology struck Antebes. "WAS? What do you mean, 'was'?"

  "The knight who owned all this is dead. I thought it only right that it be returned to his heirs. I was told that the lord would know who that is."

  That put a different light on matters.

  "Open the gate! One rider coming through!"

  The gates groaned on their hinges when they opened just enough to let through the rider and the cart, then groaned more until they slammed shut.

  Antebes watched curiously as the woman rode to the middle of the courtyard. For the first time he noticed that the bridle was without a bit. It was in fact a hackamore. Not something you'd use on a fierce warhorse, as Antebes knew very well. His ancestors were from the horseclans.

  Then he looked even more intently at the woman, noticing that she'd not been touching the reins all during the time she approached and he talked to her. She'd guided the horse just by shifting her weight and using her knees. And now she stopped him the same way, by leaning back very slightly. Despite himself Antebes was impressed.

  She dismounted so easily that she seemed to slither from the saddle. Then she went to the horse's head and began scratching behind its ears, looking around with great interest.

  "Armsman! You're in charge."

  "My lord." The stout and very strong little man who was Antebes' second-in-command for this detail, and actually the real detail commander, gave the proper abbreviated bow to a minor nobleman by nodding his head a precise amount.

  Antebes jogged down the steps on the inside of the castle wall to ground level and hurried to the side of the woman who'd claimed the name Maelgyreyt. She looked around at him as he came up to her.

  He got a shock. A tall thin young man, the tallest man he knew, he was not used staring up at anyone. He did so now, very slightly. Unconsciously he straightened his spine to counteract the slight hunch that he despised in himself.

  He blinked, looked at her with more care. She hadn't seemed so tall from a distance because her proportions were those of an average-sized person. Tall people usually had legs longer in proportion to their bodies. She did not.

  "My lady Maelgyreyt. I am Squire Antebes, Baronet Hillguard." He bowed slightly. "I am at your service. Please follow me."

  "Thank you, sir."

  The woman pivoted to walk beside him, rather than behind and to the side as was proper. He did not reprove her. Something very strange was going on, and he was beginning to think that antagonizing this woman--if she was indeed a woman--would be a very bad idea.

  Instead he glanced at her and essayed conversation. "A beautiful day for traveling. I hope you enjoyed it."

  "Oh, immensely!" And he was perfectly sure she was perfectly honest. "The air was like wine. I know people say that, but it was true. I just breathed and breathed it on my way here."

  "Not like last week. I pitied the poor people who had to brave it."

  "Oh, I loved that, too. All those dramatic dark clouds, the whipping rain. So invigorating. And the lightning. Unfortunately it never struck me."

  He said sarcastically, "Not something most people wish for."

  She laughed happily and glanced at him. She knew exactly how mischievous she was being when she replied. "But I'm not most people."

  He gave a laugh that near matched her own. He liked her, dangerous as he guessed she was, and replied to her.

  "I noticed."

  "Yes, I like you, too." She tucked her arm in his, for all the world like a young girl allowing a man to escort her to a social function.

  What? He had said nothing about liking her!

  "No, I didn't read your mind. I just read your face. One of my gifts."

 

  Two armed guards stood before the door to the apartments of Lord Haller, Viscount Landesbank. They were not happy to meet the woman. They protested that the lord was sleeping, and not be bothered by some whore or some yearling who couldn't even grow a beard yet.

  They were lackeys of Sir Beragan, who was Baron Allseck and the older brother of Holdes. The two brothers and their men had arrived a few weeks ago to join other nobles in pledging fealty to young Haller, the current viscount of the area since his father's death in a hunting accident. Unlike the other lordlings he and his men had not left the castle. Since then Antebes had gotten a bad feeling about that.

  "I am not a whore," Maelgyreyt said. She said it as if patiently explaining something to idiots.

  "You are trash! Now go back the way you came!" The oldest of the two guards laid a hand on his sword hilt.

  Maelgyreyt turned to Antebes.

  "Do you think the lord would want to see me, sir?"

  Anatebes nodded.

  "Now?"

  "Yes, indeed."

  She turned back toward the two men. The second guard had also laid a hand upon his sword hilt.

  "You are very rude men. Get out of my way."

  The guards began to draw their swords. Antebes did the same.

  Before anything could happen the castle's steward opened the door behind the guards.

  "Sirs! Sirs! What is this unseemly noise? Put those swords away!"

  No one did so, but they didn't draw them further, either. Then the steward was shouldered aside by the Viscount Landesbank, a young man wearing rich green clothing edged in crimson. He was of medium height but very strongly built.

  "What's going on? Stand down!"

  The three men reluctantly slid their swords home but kept a hand on their hilts. Mael looked on curiously.

  Antebes bowed to his liege lord, a little deeper than Landesbank strictly deserved.

  "This lady has news of Lord Holdes, Sire. Apparently he has died."

  "Indeed? Tragic news, that. You--" He nodded at the youngest of the two guards. "Go and ask my mother to join me. Or my sister if she's indisposed. Quickly!"

  His bark, coming from his massive chest, sent the guard almost running to do his bidding.

  "Milady." The lord extended his hand to the tall woman. She took it in a grip as if to shake hands--a great impropriety because it claimed equality with the viscount. Young Landesbank smoothly turned her hand so that he might press his lips to the back of it.

  Then he proceeded to casually converse with the woman. He, she, Antebes, the steward, and the older guard stood about as if having casually met in the courtyard. By the time they'd covered the same weatherly territory that Antebes and Mael had earlier a noise down the hall announced the arrivals of both the lord's mother and sister, trailed by the young guard.

  The viscountess was a bit stout and grey-haired, grief for her husband's death still carved in her face. The younger lady was tall and slender with dark hair and a solemn face. Both ladies wore variations of the young lord's green and crimson with over-vests of mourning black.

  "Ah, good, now we can converse in more comfortable surroundings. Good day, Antebes."

  The young man waited till the three nobles and the steward entered the Baron's apartment and the doors closed behind them. Then, reluctantly, he returned to duty. It would surely be nice, albeit impossibl
e, to listen in on the conversation about to take place.

 

  Gossip spread like proverbial wildfire throughout the castle. By the time Antebes was off duty and cleaned up for the nightly meal it had reached fantastic proportions that included, among other delightful items, fire-breathing dragons and armies marching by night. Apparently the first tale, that a sorceress had swooped down on a winged horse, was entirely too tame for some people.

  At supper the visitor was seated at the right hand of the viscount, a position of considerable honor, bumping down by one the castellan of the castle. The viscountess as usual sat to his left and his sister, Lady Helaine, beyond her.

  Antebes, as a presumptive baron, sat near the top of one of the two cross tables which formed the sides of a square-cornered U. Across from him sat several knights and two baronets subordinate to Beragan, Anders and Sandson, whose properties were baronetcies. Unlike Antebes they would never ascend to a higher degree. They disliked him, for that and for other reasons. He was just as happy not to have them for friends. With friends like them he would not need enemies.

  Antebes chatted and laughed with those near him on the table, all partisans of the Viscount. There was no affection for Beragan's men on the opposite table. Most of those on both sides of the table were knights. The only exceptions on Antebes side were himself and Eldoran, a clerk and apprentice healer who thus was respectively one rung below Antebes and two rungs below a knight.

  Technically Antebes could open a conversation with knights, being one rung above them. But he was a well-mannered boy who exerted his status as squire and a youngster and only spoke to them if they spoke to him first. Consequently he was conversing only with Eldoran, until one of the knights leaned forward to look at Antebes and speak to him.

  "Lord, I understand you escorted the sorceress to see our liege. You must have seen her wondrous mount."

  Antebes smiled. "Sir Knight, you joke with me. I've not doubt you know she was mounted on Sir Holdes' mount."

  "I'd heard that. I near discounted it. His mount is a spirited beast."

  "And still is. But she is a master horseman. Or mistress horsewoman, or whatever the correct nomen are."

  "Well, you would know." He turned to a fellow knight. "The Squire here is a descendent of the horseclans."

  The conversation begun Antebes said, "Perhaps she is a sorceress. She's certainly extraordinary. But she says she is a healer."

  "And uncommon fair, though large."

  "I noticed that. But I might be a bit cautious about pressing my attentions on her. Even a healer can put a little something in your wine to make some important appendage drop off."

  Great mirth greeted that, followed by several different suggestions about just what appendage that might be.

  Before the conversation could turn back to Antebes the viscount stood up. He was wearing the green and red of his office, and waited for the room to quieten.

  "I have sad tidings. Sir Holdes is no longer with us. He perished ten days ago when attacked by brigands. But he died as he would have wanted, taking his attackers with him."

  The room's noise returned, doubled. Lord Haller waited a moment, then raised a hand. When quiet returned he spoke again.

  "His demise was seen by our guest, Lady Maelgyr. She has kindly consented to bear witness to us tonight."

  He gestured for her to stand and then took his seat.

  All eyes focused on the woman, who wore a simple dress of light blue with the subtle sheen of silk. It fit her tall figure too well to be anyone else's. Antebes nodded to himself. She was not a poor person.

  Nor a timid one. She stood and looked around the great hall as if she were its reigning queen, waiting till just the right moment before speaking. Her voice was powerful, easily reaching the far corners.

  "Ten days agone the valiant Sir Holdes encountered a fair maiden traveling toward a town to ply her wares and service as a healer. Which she will be doing in this redoubtable castle starting tomorrow."

  Her mode of speech was declamatory, unusual in a woman. Antebes settled himself to enjoying grand lies and enjoying both the truth he inferred and a lofty tale.

  "Gallantly did Holdes turn aside from his questing to protect the maiden, one known as Maelgyreyt." And surely to bed her himself before someone else could rape her.

  "They camped that night near an abandoned cottage too gone for shelter but well enough to protect one side of the camp from wind and to reflect heat back from the camp fire. Holdes and healer ate well from a repast prepared by Holdes' diligent squire, one Alfred, a valiant boy soon to die protecting his liege.

  "Well after dark did Holdes and Mael engage in philosophical debate." Have sex, of course. Or possibly not immediately, for she continued.

  "They also played chess and were well matched." That was entirely possible. For many years now chess had been popular among knights and nobles, improvising sets and pieces if they happened not to have a portable set on their travels. Antebes guessed that wins and losses that night included various amorous forfeits.

  "The loyal Alfred may not have been as diligent a lookout as he could have been." He'd been spying upon the amorous play and pleasuring himself.

  "Holdes war-trained stallion surely was diligent in applying his nose and ears but the villainous brigands came in from the lee of the wind.

  "The first heroic Holdes and maid knew of intruders were when they heard Alfred's death shout. The boy did not die entirely in vain, for he killed his assailant as he himself died.

  "Holdes snatched up his sword and shield and met the rush with a will and a shout to his god. He struck down three of them in the first instant, then he was surrounded. He ended two more before he received his first wound.

  "The maid Maelgyr, herself a devotée not only of the goddess of healing but of war, snatched up her staff and dispatched as many as Holdes, they not expecting a woman to fight."

  That would likely be taken by everyone else around Antebes as a lie, but he had seen how easily Mael had carried her staff. As tall as she, iron-shod at each end and the middle, it was a distance weapon. Thus in expert hands it could be deadlier than a sword.

  "Holdes was well engaged now and dispatched two more assailants in a single deft stroke. But in his fierceness he warded himself not and was struck from the side and behind.

  "Finding themselves twice beset the perfidious brigands turned their attention to Mael. They closed with her. But her puissant staff turns into two battle sticks when twisted thus."

  She raised her hands above her hands close together, twisted, and then brought them done with a twirl of her hands. Remembering the iron band around the staff, Antebes had a vivid image of her twirling two deadly short-staffs in two windmilling blurs.

  "Fair Mael is a fierce partisan when her ire is up. And up it was at the interruption of her pleasant evening. Holdes ended three more and she killed the remaining two.

  "But now was a time for weeping. Mael knelt beside the gallant Holdes, trying with all her healer's skill to save him. But not even the best healer can thwart the will of the gods. For they had seen the valor of Holdes and called him home to his just reward."

  She bowed her head and her hair fell over her face as if to hide tears. Which Antebes doubted trickled down her face. She just did not seem the weepy type.

  Though some of the knights in the hall were, those of the opposite table to that of the squire. Some openly wept. Though that might be more for a dramatically satisfying end than for Holdes himself.

  She lifted her head and gazed upward, perhaps at the heavens where presumably Holdes now dwelt. Which Antebes doubted. Holdes had been a brute and a lout who after death more likely went the other way.

  She took a deep perhaps shuddering breath and brought her gaze down.

  "As the hero lay dying he swore me to bear to those who cared for him the tale of his end and to say that he loved you with his dying breath. So weep for Holdes if you must. But remember as well his deeds on earth and his heroism, and be consoled."

  Even skeptical Antebes felt a ground-swell of emotion in his breast. Which swelled even more when young Viscount Landesbank stood with a dripping mug held high.

  "Knights and nobles! Fill your mugs! And drink! Drink with me to valiant HOLDES!"

  Accompanied by all the men in the hall, he tilted his head and drank full, then as custom demanded slammed his mug to the table with everyone else. The sound was like thunder brought indoors.