Dragon Heartstone > Chapter 10–Rescue

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Britta frowned as they sat on horseback, staring at the sprawling encampment below them. “Why are we doing this again?”

Gall spoke. “Our options here are limited. We can’t force Edwyn to abdicate, so we either convince him of the need or engineer a coup.”

“His behavior so far does not suggest he will step down easily.”

“I agree. I believe a coup may be necessary. For that to happen, we must convince Katun to support our cause. I believe I can do that by appealing to his sense of honor.  His loyalty lies with Bretagne, and the army is loyal to him. The men only obey Edwyn’s dictates because he is their king. If we convince Katun that you are a better alternative, he can get the army to switch sides.”

“You seem convinced of this dynamic.”

“The army knows that what they are doing is wrong. Convincing them to put their support elsewhere is not trivial, but it can be done. But to make it happen, you must be at Katun’s side and surrounded by his loyalists.”

Gripping the reins tighter, Britta replied, “If Edwyn gets his hands on me, all this will be for nothing, and my life will be forfeit.”

“As long as you stay by my side, I won’t let that happen.”

I wish I could believe you. “Katun has gone silent. What do you make of that?”

Gall clenched his jaw. “That means he’s either been discovered or is staying silent to protect himself. We don’t know which. The best we can do is ask for an audience and hope for the best.”

“Those who dine on hope die farting,” Britta grumbled. “What if Katun is already dead?”

“Then I will have to kill Edwyn myself, and it will be best if I can do that from within the camp. But once I kill him, the army will be leaderless, and I will need you by my side to take over.”

“What if he is still alive?”

“Then I’ll need you by Katun’s side so the men will switch allegiances.”

“I don’t like this plan. It is full of holes and potential failure.”

“I understand, but if we let him continue to murder his way across Bretagne, the army will become an extension of his warped mind. How many more innocent people will have to die?”

“Perhaps you should have thought of that before you put him back on the throne.”

Gall shot daggers at her. “I had to remove Brecc to rid Bretagne of the Council’s influence,” he paused before adding, “and to get you away from Brecc.”

I’m glad I was somewhere on the agenda. Britta quietly responded, “I don’t disagree with the latter.” She stared out at the dim lights of the encampment. “All of this presumes we can talk to Edwyn or Katun. I don’t see how that is going to happen. They aren’t going to just let us ride in and talk to them.”

Gall adjusted himself in his saddle. “We shall see. Just stay silent while I talk. Do not draw their attention.”

Britta frowned but pulled her hood over her red locks.

* * *

The guards on the main approach to the Bretagne encampment stiffened as two figures on horseback approached one full length ahead of the other. The leader was a giant hooded horseman. Behind him sat a much smaller form covered in a tattered gray cloak. “Who goes there?” a guard asked.

The larger horseman spoke, “I come on behalf of the Governor of Keihl.” He gestured to the figure behind him, “This is my servant. We request an audience with Duke Katun.”

The guards exchanged glances before one replied. “I’m sorry, my Lord, but that is quite impossible.”

“Why is that?” he responded quickly.

“Duke Katun has been arrested for treason. He is to be executed at dawn.”

The figure stiffened. “Then I must speak with the King.”

The guard shook his head. “No one is to enter the camp. If you have a message for the King, leave it with me. I will make sure he receives it.”

“I was ordered to deliver it in person. But since I cannot, I must leave,” the horseman said, sitting up straight in the saddle. Yanking on the reigns, he wheeled his horse around and rode back into the darkness with his retainer.

* * *

Once out of ear and eyeshot, Gall’s “servant” threw off her hood. Shaking out her red hair, Britta spoke, “Well, that didn’t work. What do we do now?”

“We are still going to save Katun’s life,” Gall stated as they rode off the path.

“How are we going to that? Walk in and ask them to release him?”

Gall grinned as he dismounted, “Well, you are half right.” He grabbed the pommel of his sword. “But we won’t be asking for him.”

Britta’s mouth dropped open. “Are you crazy? How do you expect to get in and out of there undetected?”

He raised an eyebrow, “Me? I think you are mistaken. I have no intention of going in there alone.”

Britta gulped as Gall flashed a toothy smile.

* * *

The sentry looked up at a stooped old crone approaching from the darkness. He held up his lamp and peered at the bedraggled figure before him, “What do you want?”

“I need shelter for the night,” she croaked, holding out a handful of gold coins. “Have pity, please. It is all I have.”

The guard gaped, snatched the money from her hand, and jerked his head toward the inner ring of campfires. “Go on before anyone sees you,” he said, staring at the coins as they glittered in the firelight. With surprising speed, the old woman slipped past. He did not care. Someone else would chase her away. Tucking the coins into his robes, he turned around. A shadow slipped by and disappeared into the camp. He felt a twinge of concern for the moment but quickly rationalized it. Just my imagination.

* * *

The old woman dipped behind one of the tents.

“Very convincing,” said a voice out of the darkness.

She looked around. “Show yourself. I don’t like talking to ghosts.”

Gall stepped out of the shadows and studied her. “You did very well by making that quick.” He touched her cheek. “I was not certain how long that spell would last.”

“Well, I’m glad it lasted as long as it did.” Within seconds, however, the old woman’s face disappeared to be replaced by Britta’s youthful one. “Now, what do we do?”

“Cover your head to avoid being recognized, and act as my servant. It is my turn to be disguised since spells I cast on myself tend to last longer.”

“Speaking of which, aren’t you worried that guard will realize his precious treasure is nothing more than a bunch of enchanted acorns?”

“Not really. After he realizes the deception, he won’t raise the alarm. Doing so will draw attention to himself.”

“Perhaps, but we best hurry. Dawn is not far away.”

“Yes, I agree. Edwyn most likely would hold Katun somewhere deep within the encampment. Keep an eye out for a heavily guarded tent.”

Britta nodded.

Gall opened a small ceramic container and smeared his forehead and cheeks with a reddish-brown substance that glowed briefly as it touched his skin. After muttering some words, his features blurred and reshaped.

“What is that stuff again?”

“Changeling ointment. It should last longer on me.”

She did not recognize the face, nor was it noteworthy. Still, it seemed bland enough to allow them to move about the camp without drawing attention or a challenge. They navigated around tents and between groups of soldiers lounging, talking, or playing games of chance. After nearly fifteen minutes, they found a large tent surrounded by a dozen guards.

Gall stepped behind the nearest shelter and leaned closer to Britta. “That must be where they are holding him. We need to get inside and see what state he is in.”

“How do you propose to do that?”

Gall spotted a bucket of water. “Grab that and follow me.”

She did so and followed as he strode toward the tent. The guards moved to block their path. “No one is allowed in to see the prisoner.”

“I am not here to ‘see’ the prisoner. Rather I am here to make sure he is ready for his execution. Unless you want to join him, step aside.”

The guard frowned. “My orders from the King were precise …”

“As were mine. Step aside,” Gall replied, swatting the spears out of his path. The guards looked at each other but shrugged. Without waiting for further reaction, he entered the tent with Britta behind him. Darkness surrounded them, except for a small patch of light from an oil lamp, its flame set so low, it glowed like a pin-prick in a dark canvas. A form sat slumped over on the ground near the tent’s center. Gall turned up the lamp.

Light flooded into the room, revealing Katun’s crumpled body, shackled to the center post of the tent, his arms and face a mass of bloody bruises. Britta gasped but quickly recovered and settled next to his side. “What have they done to you?” she asked.

Katun winced and opened an eye that was not swollen shut. When he caught sight of Britta, his expression wavered for a moment before breaking into a grin. “I must be seeing things. Why aren’t you in Cazidor?” He glanced around before looking up at Gall. “Who is this?”

“Long story.” She jerked a thumb at Gall and said, “That is Gall, in disguise. We’ve come to rescue you. Can you walk?”

“I think so,” Katun replied, “But I don’t see how those guards are going to let me simply walk out of here.”

“I’ll take care of that,” Gall said. He spoke to Britta, “You tend to his wounds. I will return shortly.” He stepped through the tent flap and stood close to the guard. “Who is responsible for his injuries?”

The sentry shrugged, “Why does it matter? He’ll be dead in the morning.”

Gall seized his tunic and yanked him close, fixing him with a piercing gaze. “Wrong answer. Try again.”

Swallowing hard, the guard answered. “Fitz, he was the one that beat Lord Katun. I told him to stop. But he claimed the King permitted him to do anything necessary to identify those he was sending messages to.”

“Go get Fitz, then. I will have a word with him.” A short, heavy-set man wearing dirty armor stomped up to the tent within moments.

“What do you want?” he demanded, jabbing a finger into Gall’s chest. “I did what I was ordered to do. If you have a problem, take it up with the King.”

“I’ll do more than that,” Gall said, grabbing Fitz’s hand and twisting until the man yelped. “Come with me,” he said, dragging Fitz through the tent flap.

The interrogator sneered when he saw Britta treating Katun’s wounds. “What’s this? The King said not to show any mercy.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want to disappoint the King now, would we?”

Fitz looked up in time to catch a fist in the face. He dropped like a stone to the floor.

Gall turned to Britta, “Quick, strip this one of his armor and give it to Katun.” He grabbed Katun’s shackle cuff and pulled a key from his robes. Slipping it into the lock, he twisted it, and the mechanism disengaged with a click. By this time, she had Fitz’s leather jerkin off and was working on the leg guards.

“How did you get the key?” she asked.

“I borrowed it from the guard,” he answered, slapping the shackles on Fitz. He retrieved the changeling ointment again, put some on his fingers, and wiped them onto Fitz’s face and then Katun’s. After uttering a few words, the men quickly took on each other’s identities.

“Clever,” Britta commented. “But how long do we have?”

“Not long,” Gall replied. “We must leave immediately.” He grabbed Katun, who bit his lip to avoid screaming, and pulled him to his feet.

“Gentle,” Britta hissed, racing to Katun’s side. “He’s not a sack of meat.”

“We all will be unless we get moving,” Gall shot back.

Katun took a breath. “I’m all right. Let’s go.” As they strode out of the tent, the guard scrutinized Katun, but as expected, he saw Fitz. A grim smile crossed his features, acknowledging the man’s haggard appearance. As Gall hoped, the man seemed satisfied that the interrogator had received some justice for the earlier beating. So, with a mildly curious look, the guard turned away while Gall, Britta, and Katun lumbered off into the dark.

* * *