Chapter Eight

“The Stag is it? I am sure the beds are full of hay and flees.” Seros was less than exuberant. “Though, it beats sleeping in the rain, I suppose.”

Selene stole a glance at the clear sky and then back at her guide. “We are to share a bed?”

He turned to her, his flawless smile returning once again. “We will share a room to keep up appearances, but I will be sleeping on the floor.”

Her face reddened. “I’m sorry if I offended you. I meant nothing by it. It’s just…”

“Think no more on the matter. Soon we will be fast asleep with our bellies full and our minds at ease.”

They entered the old inn and found a seat near the back. There was no music playing, but the mood was light and the mead was endless. There were few fighting men in the inn, and even fewer knights, Selene noticed. It was always important to know what nobility was in the room. It helped paint a picture for how the night would go. Nobility was never a good thing, she had learned.

A serving girl came up to their table after a few minutes. “Can I get you something?”

Seros smiled and handed her three pennies. “A room and full bellies, if you please.”

“Certainly, sir,” the serving girl said, and scurried off with the pennies.

A few tables over what appeared to be a crow knight, though Selene was not familiar with many of the house sigils so she could not be sure, sat with three men in matching mail and dirty brown cloaks, that may have been red at some point. Selene did not recognize the men, and Seros did not seem to care who was in the room at all. The knight had noticed them the second they walked in, his eyes never leaving her. Not again, she thought. After a moment, the serving girl brought two mugs of mead and a plate full of bread, cheese and salted pork. Selene forgot the knights at once and dug into the pile of food.

“It seems the great march has not robbed the kingdom of its food,” Seros said with a laugh as he took a long drink.

Selene smiled through a mouthful of pork. “It certainly hasn’t, but—”

She stopped talking as Seros’ eyes focused on something over her shoulder.

The voice came from behind her. “I thought it necessary to welcome you lot to the humble town of Haxley. I am Sir Mickan Bondary, and it would please me greatly if you and your wench would join us. It is not every day we see such a comely fellow and his little pet parading through these parts.” The knight was large, perhaps six and five and weighing at least sixteen stone even without his armor. He had dark black hair and a matching full beard set around a strong jaw. His voice was deep and rumbling and he smiled through broken teeth.

“I thank you for your welcome, sir, but the lady and I would prefer to dine alone, if it pleases you.” Seros’ reply was nothing but courteous.

The large man’s grin faded, and he stared at Seros with eyes that could have been chipped from ice. “It pleases me when lowborn cum accepts my offers without pause. I do not scour this wretched countryside for mine own pleasure, no. I will give you a moment to rethink your refute, for surely I simply misheard you.”

Seros only smiled back at the large man. “Then, this refusal must serve as a great slight to the honor of House… excuse me if I have failed to learn the sigils of the lesser houses. I mean, who can blame me, you lot of crow knights running around from battle to battle. We have a name for you in the southern lands, you know.”

The bearded knight’s hand moved to the hilt of his sword as his jaw tightened. “I would watch your tongue if you intend on keeping it, scum. I am heir to House Bondary, true son to Lord Borlay, and the crows have never tasted my blood.”

He ignored the knight’s preaching. “Whores. Battle whores, of course, but whores nonetheless.” Seros’ smile was large and mischievous. He widened his grin as the three men sitting with the knight rose, hands on the hilts of their swords.

“Give me the pleasure of your name, before I take your head.”

Seros moved with a flash and was out of his seat and to the knight so fast that his sworn men did not even have time to react. At first glance, Selene thought that he simply had his hands around the knight’s large neck, but only moments later blood began to trickle down through the knight’s chain mail as a gurgle escaped his mouth. Seros withdrew a knife from his throat and took a step back. The large knight staggered a step backwards, clutched his throat in confusion, and fell to the rotted wood floor, his blood already permeating the wooden baseboards.

The three men looked at each other and then drew their swords, anger and fear masking their muddled faces. Seros’ eyes had not left the three, not even for a moment. His face had lost all of its charm, replaced by an almost alarming intensity. The three swords began to circle him, and Selene watched from her seat as he moved. Each step was calculated, equally considered; as if he had been doing this dance his entire life, this dance of death. The sword to his right attacked first with a sweeping overhead strike that Seros simply shrugged out of the way, glancing the long sword off of his small dirk and sending it sailing to his left as he spun around, slashing the knife backhanded towards the man’s throat. Blood sprayed through the air after the dagger, but Seros had already spun back to the left and stabbed the man on his left between the ribs. He lost his dagger there. The third man came at him, swinging wildly. Seros back stepped the first blow and ducked the second. He caught the man’s arms on the third, kicked his knee out and caught his neck as he fell, snapping it in one fluid motion.

Selene could have heard a teardrop in the silent inn. Every patron was watching the gentle traveler she knew as Seros with unblinking eyes. A small boy ran out the door, though Seros did not seem to care. He looked at his fallen foes and then at Selene. It seemed as though he had naught a care in the world, as if every sup ended in the same fashion. He moved to her and grabbed her arm lightly.

“I think we have worn out our welcome,” he said as he hauled Selene up and out of the old inn. She followed without objection, more dazed than aware.

Back in the street, clouds were moving in from the west, threatening to overtake the pale moon. Seros was all but carrying Selene back towards the gate when they were surrounded by Leland, the Captain of the Guard himself, and four other men. All were armed, all had their swords unsheathed, and all of their faces were dipped in sleep and shrouded in fear. They circled around her and Seros, eyes wide, awaiting orders. Selene wondered if Seros had grabbed the dagger from the dead man’s body.

“That is as far as you go, Seros was it? The boy told me you have slain four men, one of them the heir of Bondary.” The captain’s eyes were hard and full of concern. “We are required to arrest you. Lord Borlay will want justice, and I am might sure that the price will be your head.”

“I pray you and your men sheath your weapons and forget you ever laid eyes on me if you wish to witness another day.” Seros moved in front of Selene and looked at none of them and all of them at once.

“I’m afraid tis not possible. Lord Borlay would flay me and my family if he learned we let you go.”

Selene dropped to her knees and began shaking with fear. If they take Seros, I will be no more. They will rape and torture me until I die a terrible death, and then they will feed me to the crows and maggots. The thoughts raced through her head faster than she could process them.

“I will go willingly, as long as you release the girl. She had nothing to do with my crimes, and she is but a child.”

The captain thought about it for a moment. “Fine. Stick irons on ‘em and throw ‘em in the cages.” He turned to the man to his right. “Dirg, ride to Bondary and let his lordship know what has happened here. We will ride with four on the morrow and bring the prisoner to him.”

The man named Dirg nodded and sheathed his sword. The stable was back near the gate and he moved quickly to it. The captain turned back to Seros and nodded at the men around him. They advanced cautiously and grabbed his arms, one man on each, as the third man carrying the irons circled round behind him.

“Forgive me sir, but the girl is of your company, and your own wife you say. Your crimes are hers. I hope you can understand that. Bind the girl as well.”

Seros’ face betrayed no intentions, but the moment the man with irons was close enough to touch, Seros ripped his left arm free and smashed an open palm into the man’s nose to his right, sending him sprawling and bloodied to the ground. He rotated around the man with irons, grabbed them and wrapped them tightly around his neck while he smashed the other guard’s knee backwards with the heel of his boot. The guard let out a wail of pain as his body buckled over his shattered joint. Seros held the man with irons and wrapped the chain around his neck in front of him.

“Drop your sword, Captain, or I will steal the life from him.”

The captain had taken a few steps forward but froze once he saw his man compromised. After a moment’s hesitation, he gritted his teeth and dropped his sword.

“Back away,” Seros said with a wave of his hand.

After the captain moved out of reach of the sword, Seros put the irons on the man in front of him and pushed him to the ground. He grabbed the sword and moved up to the captain, sword out in front of him. He pressed it to his back and looked back at Selene. “Darling, it is time for you to get up and follow me. Come now.”

Selene had watched the entire showing in awe. She felt herself moving at his command, though it was as if someone else was moving her, some unseen puppeteer. She followed him closely as they walked behind the captain. Seros never let his sword fall from the man’s back, and when they reached the gate it stood closed. Archers were posted on each tower, bows in hand and arrows drawn.

“Command them to throw out their bows, or I will take off a piece of you.”

The captain hesitated again but spoke soon enough once Seros put a little pressure on the sword in his back. “Archers, drop your bows and quivers to the ground.” Nothing happened for a moment. “Do it now!” he bellowed.

Reluctantly, the archers obeyed and threw down their bows. “Now, have them open the gates.” Seros looked back at Selene. “Can you ride, my dear?”

Selene looked at him blankly for a moment before finally nodding her head.

“Good.” He looked back at the captain and nodded towards the gate.

“Open the gate!” He bellowed once more, and a second later the wooden gate creaked open, inch by inch.

Seros guided the captain towards the stables and, once in, Seros moved to each stall and cut free the horses inside and slapped them on the rump with his sword. One by one they galloped out of the gate until there was but two left.

“Up up, dear, onto the mare.” Seros watched her as she climbed into the saddle, and then whispered in the captain’s ear. “Tell your Lord Borlay that the Lost Prince will dine with him shortly.” Then he took the captain by the back of the head and slammed him face first into a wooden beam. The captain slumped to the ground with a crack and a moan. Seros joined her on the remaining horse and they rode out to the gate.

Selene had heard his whisper; she had caught every word. Her tongue was twisted and her mind raced as she sat atop her mare, wondering if this was the absolute best day of her life, or the very worst. When she looked back, she noticed that the inn had emptied to the streets, as well as most of the houses and other buildings that had people residing in them. They looked on with fearful eyes and whispered to each other in awe of what they had seen. There was one thing for certain about the tales of the Lost Prince. He never lacked an audience, and he never disappointed.