"Messengers must be sent-I hope within the hour-to Callidyrr," Hanrald urged, surprised his father hadn't already acted upon this point.
"But wait," said the earl slowly, choosing his words with great care. "Perhaps it is premature to trouble the High King with a local matter such as this. It could well be that this is not the prelude to war. Or if it is, it is a matter that we can handle ourselves."
"Surely you're not serious?" objected Hanrald. "This could be a threat to the whole kingdom!"
"Perhaps father is right," Gwyeth said, his voice purring. "It is a thing that, done well here, can do nothing but bring credit to the great name of Blackstone!"
Hanrald looked from his father to his brother, watching them as their eyes met furtively. Suspicions surged within him, but for now he would keep quiet. He would watch and he would observe, but he would brook no treachery to his king… or to his princess.
From the Log of Sinioth:
The seeds of chaos have been planted, and already they flourish. The voyage of one longship, my Vulture, sends frightened Ffolk scattering inland. Panic-stricken messengers ride to Callidyrr with urgent missives for the king. They do not know that he is gone and that his wife lies unknowing, nestled against the bosom of Talos.
My riders cross into Gnarhelm after a hard crossing of the mountains. They are tardy, but I am certain that Larth shall make up in vigor what his company lacks in timing.
All the cogs are in place, and now we only wait for the wheels to turn.
12
Their captors herded Alicia, Keane, and Tavish roughly down the winding trail, quickly leaving the barrow behind. The rain poured down, obscuring their surroundings and adding to the prisoners' misery. The horses trailed the column, led by northmen. Newt had disappeared when they were captured.
The gods curse me for a fool! Alicia rebuked herself. She should have scouted the entrance! In the tight confines of the doorway to the barrow, with Keane's power to back her up, the princess could have held off the attackers for a long time. Indeed, her diminutive size would have proved an advantage against the looming men of Gnarhelm!
Yet instead they had blundered into the open as if they had no enemies in all the Realms. Now the treasures-her bracers, Keane's ring, and Tavish's harp-had been put at risk, for surely these plundering raiders would steal them as soon as they noticed their value.
Indeed, the harp, as well as the Staff of the White Well, were now carried by one of the men of Gnarhelm. They hadn't bothered to remove Keane's ring, if in fact they had even noticed it, nor had they taken the silver bracers from her wrists. She had seen several of the long-haired warriors admiring the gleaming coils, however, and suspected that they coveted them.
None of the captors spoke, but a grim anger seemed to pervade them. Once Alicia paused to remove a stone from her heel, and a tall northman cuffed her forward with brutal violence. Sniffling loudly, his huge, flat nose clogged, the giant figure looked at her with narrow, bloodshot eyes when she turned to object. His dirty beard gapped to reveal a sneer, and he loomed high above the princess. The man's size and demeanor frightened her, and she tried to keep well ahead of him on the trail.
Finally they reached the valley floor, where pines covered the flat, fertile ground, and here the northmen made camp in a wide clearing beside a stream. The three captives were rudely shoved to the ground, their hands bound at their backs. Soon one of their captors sat across a campfire from them, while two others stood at the warrior's sides.
Alicia looked at the two who stood. One of these was the huge, surly brute who had cuffed her. He still sniffled noisily and seemed disinterested in the events around him. The other was an older man, wiry strong, though his legs bowed slightly and his hair and beard had gone white. This one looked at Alicia with a scalding hatred that frightened her.
Finally she looked at the man who sat before her. His smooth skin and lithe, strapping physique marked him as younger than either of the pair who flanked him. He had hair the color of gold, and proud, even haughty, blue eyes-eyes the color of deep winter ice. He wore his hair long and braided. Long mustaches trailed to either side of his mouth, though his firm chin was shaved. She sensed, even before he spoke, that this man was the leader of their captors.
"Who are you?" began the seated northman, in accented Commonspeech. "Why do you make war upon our people?"
Alicia paused at his words and suddenly realized that it was her task to respond. "We do not make war against you. Rather, it is you who have attacked us!"
The man sloughed off her reply with an arrogance that inflamed Alicia's temper. "Are you scouts for your army? Or are you spies?"
"Neither!" she snapped. "And why have you taken us prisoner? We offered you no harm!"
"Harm?" This time it was the older man, the one with such hatred in his eyes, who spoke. "Explain how this can fall from the sky and slay my son!"
With an abrupt gesture, the white-haired warrior held out an arrow, and Alicia tried to keep her astonishment from her face. The gold and red markings on the shaft clearly indicated it had come from the High King's arsenal-a fact obviously known to these northmen as well as to her.
"When were you attacked?" she asked. "And where?"
"In the morning of the past day." Again it was the younger man, the chieftain, who spoke. He talked quickly, as if he believed that she already knew the answers to his questions.
"A shower of arrows such as this came from the heights above my column-a treacherous ambush!" Those ice-blue eyes flashed, and Alicia suppressed a shiver of fear. "They slayed five of my men, including Knaff's only son!"
"I can only say that such treachery should be punished, but it was not worked in the name of the High King! Betrayal is done to both our nations in this act. King Kendrick desires peace with the north, as he has for these last twenty years."
"And how is it that a mere slip of a girl speaks for a mighty king?" demanded the old warrior. She guessed the fellow to be Knaff. His eyes burned into hers.
But her own gaze flamed back at him, such that he blinked in surprise and then scowled darkly. Alicia didn't feel Keane's foot nudge her side as, furious, she spat her reply.
"I am the High Princess Alicia, daughter of King Kendrick and heir to the crown of the isles!"
Now the younger northman's eyes widened, and he looked at her with skeptical appraisal. The three warriors jabbered in their thick tongue for a moment, and she saw them casting scornful looks at Keane. Suddenly she realized the warning that had been implicit in the mage's kick, the warning she had ignored when she informed these northmen that they held captive one who could prove to be a very useful hostage.
"Indeed, I have heard that the King of the Ffolk has fair daughters. Now I know it to be true." The chieftain, with a half-smile, nodded his head in a gesture that might have indicated respect. His response surprised her-and annoyed her, as well-but she felt it best to ignore whatever insult might be found there.
"The rulership of my people is a matter of mind and sinew, not determined by fair skin or hair," she pointed out. "But now you have the advantage, sir. Tell me who holds my companions and me so unjustly captive."
"I am Brandon Olafsson, Crown Prince of Gnarhelm," replied the young northman, his face still crooked with that clever half-smile-overly clever, to Alicia's thinking.
"A royal meeting, this," remarked Tavish dryly. "Could it perhaps be accomplished with a bit more comfort for the participants?" She shrugged awkwardly, indicating her bound hands, and Alicia, too, began to realize how the leather thongs had begun to bite into her skin.