Prince Henry Wynter was the Heir to the High Throne of the Heptarchy and prophesised to one day lead his people to unparalleled greatness. Twenty two years after he abandoned his destiny and his throne for the chance to be the person he felt he was meant to be, he finds that Fate has not yet finished with him. The events surrounding the proposed appointment of a new Heir to the High Throne have consequences that reach as far the remote farmstead refuge of the former prince and threaten to destroy the new life that she has built for herself.

 

Previously...

"Sorry, Lieutenant. When you split the men to approach the cottage you left me to determine how to split them. You will find that these are all my squad not yours. The Queen had concerns that Sir Thomas's past friendship with the Heir might affect his judgement. That was why Lieutenant Bathurst and our squad were told to stick close to you both. She was well aware of the doubt that has troubled Sir Thomas since the uprising in the Twin Kingdoms. However she had hoped that he would remain true to his oath."

Finding his voice again, Thomas spoke. "What do you intend to do with us?"

"My orders are very clear on the matter in the event that we found the Heir or Lord Amherst and you were not able to carry out your mission."

Sergeant Ackers raised her crossbow and levelled it at Daniel. In a fluid motion she pulled the trigger loosing the bolt into Daniel's chest. Georgina's scream of anguish echoed around the clearing as her husband pitched backwards into the ground, the bolt sticking from the rapidly reddening front of his white smock.

"Consider that your formal discharge from the Queen's Own Regiment of Yeomanry, my Lord."

 
 

CHAPTER THREE

 

The slopes of the Downs Mountain Range, Kingdom of Cantia

Tiw's Day (Tuesday) 23 April EY 2471

Madeleine used the end of the weaver bow she held in her right hand to gently push her younger brother Noah forward as he slowed in response to the haunting scream that echoed through the woods surrounding the cottage. She signalled to him with another slightly firmer nudge to his shoulder to keep going and he reluctantly picked up the pace of his descent down the tree covered slope. Despite the treacherous ground under foot, strewn with tree roots and loose earth, Madeleine risked briefly looking up from her footing to check that her younger sister was also still moving forward. She was gratified to see that Charlotte remained safe, clinging to the back of the family's old dire wolf. In fact, if anything the pony sized animal was pulling away from Noah and herself. The one direction that Madeleine couldn't bring herself to look however, was backwards towards the only home she had ever known.

~o~O~o~
 

The Amherst farmstead cottage on the slopes of the Downs Mountain Range, Kingdom of Cantia

Georgina knelt beside the lifeless body of her husband, clasping one of his large rough hands in between her own much smaller softer hands. Occasionally she would tenderly brush her lips across his fingers in a gentle kiss. It comforted her greatly that he had a look of serenity on his face and she decided to take it as a sign that he had not suffered when the crossbow bolt had pierced his heart, for she could not bear to think that he had suffered in the final seconds of his life.

In between her soft kisses, Georgina whispered of her love for Daniel as tears ran freely down her cheeks. She found herself wondering how it could have happened that Daniel could have died. She distinctly recalled that the wedding vows exchanged at their hand-fasting ceremony had been 'for all eternity', something that a Priest of the á‰se had witnessed so she knew it had to be true. Yet the evidence in front of her indicated that they were not to be together for eternity. In fact it had been a far too brief a time and there was so much left for the couple to do together that would now be forever unfulfilled. She couldn't help but deeply regret that she had not told him more often that she loved him.

Daniel had been part of Georgina's life for so long that she couldn't truly remember a time when he wasn't a part of it. She'd been five years old when they first met as children. Daniel's mother, Queen Aldeberge of the Kingdom of Cantia, one of the seven kingdoms that comprised the Heptarchy, had brought him to the Wynter Palace in keeping with custom so that he could fulfil the obligations of his birth and pledge his allegiance and the future allegiance of his kingdom to the High King of the Angelcyn and by extension his Heir. After the largely symbolic ceremony that went with the pledge, High Queen Aliénor had invited him to join the other noble children at court for an afternoon, in an act that was more polite courtesy than a meaningful attempt to forge relationships between the children of the nobility.

Georgina, who of course had been the young Prince Henry then, had been a gentle and shy child. Even at such a tender age, the female soul inside Prince Henry had sought ways to express itself and this had estranged him from the other boys at court, who seemed to subconsciously drift away from the young prince. In contrast, Daniel ignored the roughhousing of the other boys and had walked up to the young Prince and boldly asked the names of the little wooden horses he had been playing with and clearly treasured so much. Even at a young age, Daniel had radiated an irrepressible sense of fun that led most people almost against their will to like him and within a matter of minutes he had started to draw the young prince out of his shell. By the end of the afternoon, the young Heir to the High Throne had even been playing games involving some of the other young noble boys present and it had not escaped the High Queen's notice that Daniel was the lynchpin that turned her shy introverted son into the beginnings of the sort of person she felt he would need to be if were to have any chance of being a successful High King. And Prince Henry would need to be a successful High King to advance her aspirations for her own future.

An invitation was extended that very day to Queen Aldeberge that her son would always welcome at court, an act of generosity that the High Queen would come to regret during Daniel's teenage years when she realised the hold she had over her son was being supplanted by that of dashing young Lord of Cantia. The invitation for Daniel to visit regularly had delighted the young prince beyond words as unbeknownst to everyone, the girl inside the young prince had started to develop a shy affection for Daniel and over time those feelings blossomed into first friendship and then love.

As they grew older and became teenagers, it was Daniel who had provided the young prince with a role model for how a boy should act and he had made it so much easier for him to fake his way through life. Daniel also covered for the Henry on those occasions when the real person inside was accidentally revealed in the presence of others. Indeed, on several occasions Daniel had nearly been despatched from the High Court in disgrace as a consequence of covering for Henry.

When Georgina had discovered how to use her own latent magic to transform herself from her hated male form into the person she truly was inside, it was Daniel who saved her from the attempts of the Royal Weaver to magically entombed her within Henry's form against her will and strip her personality of those attributes which her father had considered to be weak and unbecoming of a future High King. Most importantly, it was Daniel who had given her a gift so special that she could never hope to repay him - that of unconditional love despite what she had been born.

And now a stranger enlisted in the service of her mother had taken her world from her. Her pain and sorrow weighed heavily on her heart and part of her wanted to do nothing more than lay down beside her husband and pass with him into the next world. The only reason she could think of to live was that someone had to protect their children. Their children who would have to live very long lives without a father.

A maelstrom of pain, sorrow and confusion swirled at the core of her being, slowly blotting out the existence of all other feelings. And then, just when she thought she could never feel anything else ever again, she felt a new emotion in her heart. A strange new emotion that was also a very, very familiar old emotion. One that had in fact, laid long dormant since before she left the Wynter Palace all those years ago. An emotion that she knew in time would consume her very soul if she let it. And it found a voice. A long unheard voice that whispered words of retribution and rage to Georgina from the deepest darkest corners of her mind.

Georgina closed her eyes momentarily, working to entomb her baser instincts to the prison in which they had long laid dormant and gain control of her emotions. In her youth she had become increasingly frustrated with what she saw as the unfairness of life forcing her to wear her hated male form for most of her waking hours while other girls at court had flaunted their dresses and loves. The stress of being unable to mentally relax and express herself for any length of time had generated an unforgiving ruthlessness in combat situations that scared the young girl inside her. Yet once again, Daniel's friendship had saved her and he had taught her how to express her emotions in a more positive manner and stopped her becoming the sort of person that troubled her nightmares. Since her final transformation and rescue, Georgina had felt the beast within her heart was finally vanquished and she had become more confident in the expression of her emotions. Georgina knew that her eldest daughter, Madeleine, considered her to be more than a bit embarrassing at times at the way laughter and tears would gush forth but she did not care if it meant she could feel without needing to filter her emotions any more.

Finding herself out of practice of suppressing her negative side, it took her a few minutes before she was confident that she had properly quelled the emotional turmoil within her heart. Georgina could not help but smile a little when she realised it was the thought of her husband, even in death, that had enabled her to regain her self-control. When she opened her puffy red rimmed eyes again she raised her husband's hand to her lips a final time before lowering it gently onto his stomach. Leaning over him she brushed against his still chest as she pressed her lips chastely against her husband's lips in a final farewell.

Her goodbye's over, Georgina turned her attention back to the situation around her and carefully gripped the hilt of her husband's scabbard enclosed sword and slowly slid it free. It had been several decades since she had used a sword in anger and she was acutely aware that her husband's sword, while a masterpiece of craftsmanship, was balanced for him and not her smaller and weaker form. Taking one final glance at her husband's body, Georgina silently vowed that she would not rest until she had made all of those responsible for her husband's death suffer a similar end.

Turning her attention to the melee going on around her in the clearing for the first time, a quick glance confirmed her worst fears. Anyone with knowledge of Thomas and Daniel's past would have recognised them as the most immediate dangers in any engagement and clearly the Sergeant knew this, as both men lay unmoving in the grass with crossbow bolts projecting from their bodies. The young yeoman lieutenant had fared little better and was struggling with an opponent despite a crossbow bolt projecting from his shoulder. Her son, Hal, in contrast seemed to be holding his own and Georgina could not but help feel a swelling of pride at the man her son was becoming.

Georgina opted to assist the man in most immediate danger, the young lieutenant, and had started to move towards him when she saw her son parry his opponents blade and then move to block a move that was to her experienced eyes clearly a feint of a stabbing attack to the stomach. The cry of warning died in her throat as she saw the yeoman switch from the feint to the real attack, leaving Hal's blade absent from where it needed to be to effectively block a switch to an upwards slash to the head. Georgina recognised the spray of blood, flesh and hair as the sword bit into the side of Hal's skull was at the very least a severely disfiguring wound and without the attention of a physic or weaver in the near future, potentially a mortal wound. A small growl of anger emitted from Georgina's mouth as she charged at the yeoman standing over the motionless body of her son.

As the two combatants blades clashed together, Georgina recalled the words of her fencing instructor Sir Hugh Leyton. 'The blade is not just an extension of your body but an extension of your will,' he had intoned to her in that richly senatorial voice of his that made every word he uttered sound as if it was an unquestionable fact. 'A blade will allow a good man to do good deeds and an evil man to do evil deeds. It is what is in your heart that will determine what you do with it and what sort of man you will ultimately be.' Sir Hugh had then taught her numerous ways with which to kill a man which had led the young Georgina to conclude that there was a third way he had not told her, which was that a blade would also allow a good man to do evil deeds.

She feinted a strike to her left and then blocked a thrust from her opponent in retaliation. A few more testing feints soon revealed to Georgina that her opponent while skilled with the blade, was not formally trained with the blade. He fought from a knowledge of previous encounters which served him well against the inexperienced and untrained but placed him at a disadvantage when engaging a classically trained master of the sword. Even more to her advantage was the fact that from his perspective he was fighting an apron wearing farmers wife not a member of the High Family. Georgina stepped forward into the engagement, parrying another thrust from her opponent before moving her blade to circle her opponents in a moulinet that ended in a savage but shallow circular cut to his body. As he jerked backwards to avoid the blade cutting any deeper, she slashed deeply at the inside of his exposed sword arm.

"Mercy?" he begged clutching at his wrist trying to staunch the flow from the severed radial artery that with each beat of his heart sent more of his life blood pouring from his body.

"Mercy? You will have the same mercy that you gave to my baby boy," snarled Georgina as she stabbed her blade into his exposed neck.

The sound of a second yeoman charging at her prevented Georgina from examining the body of her son. Adopting a defensive stance advocated by Agrippa, her heart ached as she knew that she would not be able to safely give her son the attention he needed to survive his wound until she had despatched all of her potential opponents. She allowed the advancing yeoman the first attack with his blade in order to gauge his level of skill and long dormant knowledge began the process of calculating the series of moves necessary to defeat him. Satisfied she had his measure after her initial parries of his attacks, she began the riposte that would ultimately lead to his death.

~o~O~o~
 

Madeleine felt relief wash over her as saw the track up ahead as the trees began to thin out. Once they were across the track they would be more difficult to track on the hard ground and they would be a good quarter of the way in distance to the barn in the lower pasture. She knew that the steeper slope and more densely packed forest on the other side of the track would slow them down slightly but she figured it would slow down any pursuers unfamiliar with the terrain even more. Her mother had instructed her to get her younger siblings to the barn in the lower pasture and this remained the safest way she could think of to do so. The nature of the terrain precluded any pursuit by horseback unlike the alternative routes and Madeleine's mother had indicated that she should stay away from any riders she might encounter. Once at the barn, they would be safe. Madeleine knew that her father maintained a hidden storm cellar under the barn that would provide provisions and shelter for the three of them until such time as one of her parents came for them.

IF their parents came for them, she thought.

The fear her mother felt over the events of the immediate future had been conveyed to Madeleine in the embrace that she gave her before she sent them away from the cottage. It wasn't a tearful embrace or even a fearful embrace. No, it was a loving final embrace. It was as if her mother had tried to convey all the love she felt for her in a single hug. And that had scared Madeleine far more than all the tears and wailing in the world would have.

Blinking back her own tears at the remembrance of that embrace, she watched Greytail reach the tree line and in one graceful leap clear a track wide enough for a cart. Madeleine couldn't help but smile a little as Charlotte let out a nervous little squeal as the wolf became momentarily airborne. She knew they were far enough from the cottage for there to be no danger of the sound being heard back there, so she felt no danger in letting her younger sister enjoy the moment. Indeed, if events turned out as she feared it might be the last time in a long while that Charlotte could feel such guilt free joy. As an indication as to how fast Greytail was starting to outpace them, it took Noah nearly a half minute more before he less gracefully crashed through the tree line stumbling spread eagle onto the dusty track, his weaver bow spilling from an outstretch hand from the force of the impact. Madeleine, who was a few seconds behind Noah, carefully crossed through the bushes at the tree line onto the track and started to urge her younger brother to his feet.

"Noah, we don't have ti.."

The remainder of the sentence died on Madeleine's lips as she saw no more than two metres away a gathering of six armed men. While she didn't recognise the red and white checked tabards they wore she knew that these men were in all probability related to whatever had scared her mother so much. Instinctively pulling magical energy from the very earth upon which she stood through her body and into the 'Siden Stone' embedded into the centre of the bow, she gestured a string of energy into life on the stringless recurve bow and hastily fired an arrow of crackling energy at the ground in front of the Yeomen in an effort to delay them. The resultant flash of light combined with the cloud of dust thrown up from the ground where her arrow hit, briefly obscured the two groups from each other. Madeleine grabbed Noah by the scruff of his leather jerkin with her free hand and desperately tugged him from the ground to a half crouch as she started moving towards the opposite tree line.

The initial shocked silence of both groups was initially only punctuated by the sound of Noah's hands scrabbling in the earth as he sought to gain his balance until a piercing shout emitted from one of the soldiers.

"Halt! Halt in the name of the High King!"

Madeleine cursed inwardly at that shout, realising now that the men were not mercenaries or local militia but instead members of the Yeomanry of the Household. With a renewed sense of urgency Madeleine dragged her younger brother towards the edge of the track, almost making it before her arm jerked back as Noah came to a sudden stop. Madeleine's momentum spun her around slightly so that she looked back towards her younger brother. The sight that greeted her chilled her heart as she saw a burley yeoman had a firm grip on her brother's right arm.

"You aren't going anywhere, girl," he snarled at her across the struggling form of Noah.

Madeleine could see three more yeomen were now within a few paces of her and she knew that there was no way in which she could easily get Noah free from them all. For a brief moment the thought of abandoning Noah and making her escape through the woods, only for it to be hastily rejected. Madeleine was far too much her mother's daughter to admit defeat just because the odds were against her and far too much of her father's daughter to abandon a family member. Instead, feeling her anger rising, she released her grip on Noah and grasping her weaver bow in both hands swung it by a limb at the yeoman holding onto Noah. As she swung the bow, Madeleine felt a further charge of her magic surge up through her legs from the ground and into the weaver bow to replenish the Siden Stone and causing the end of the bow's limb to crackle with eldritch energy. Her intended target jumped backwards in fear at the sight, falling over his own feet and landing heavily on the ground. Grabbing Noah by the arm she pulled him towards her in an attempt to get off the track, only for the downed yeoman to lash out at Noah with his boot while cursing Madeleine as a 'weaver bitch'. The force of his kick cracked heavily against the side of Noah's knee driving the teenager to the ground in a scream of pain.

The three remaining yeomen slowed their advance at the sight of her sparking weaver bow and changing their stances, cautiously drew their swords.

"Hawkins. Smith. Move to flank her," ordered the oldest of the three yeomen. Madeleine could see that he knew the danger a weaver bow could present in the hands of a skilled user and she realised that he was trying prevent her from having the time to focus her power in such a way as to be able to fire an arrow from the bow.

"Aye, sir!" they called in unison.

Seeing the two men trying to flank her, Madeleine changed her grip on the weaver bow to grip it more like a staff, so she could defend an attack from multiple angles.

"Get back!!" screamed Madeleine at the two yeomen either side of her.

Using the charged end points to the bows limbs she quickly jabbed at both men to force them back. Sensing an opportunity, the yeomen in front of her slashed downwards at her bow in an attempt to disarm her. At the last minute Madeleine raised her bow to block the downward blow of the sword only to see in shock the blade bite deep into the fully charged Siden Stone that was located in the centre of the riser, the rigid centre part of the bow. A blinding flare burnt itself into Madeleine's eyes as the stone shattered and the last sound she heard before losing consciousness was the dying scream of the yeoman in front of her as the full force of the discharge conducted down his sword into his body.

~o~O~o~
 

The first thing Hal became aware of was the feeling of grass tickling his face as he turned his head slightly. Slowly opening his eyes he let out a low moan from the brightness of the light and the headache that assaulted his senses, which forced his eyes closed for a few minutes before he felt confident enough to open them again. When he did manage to open his eyes and had pulled himself up onto his elbows, he was gratified to see that once he had stopped moving his blurred vision began to clear sufficiently to start identifying specific shapes in the clearing around him.

"Don't make any sudden moves. It's going to take a few minutes more before the healing stone has run its course," said a voice from out of his line of sight.

"What happened?" asked Hal to his mystery benefactor, his dry throat reducing his words to a hoarse whisper.

"We're alive and free. Whether that is the same as winning is debatable," said the voice.

Hal heard the sound of a stopper being removed and gratefully accepted the hardened leather canteen that was offered to him. Gulping down the water greedily, he felt clarity return to his thoughts and senses with each mouthful of cool water. Hal gingerly felt the side of his head with his free hand, gently probing where the source of the pain came from. He could feel the mass of wet matted hair that signified where the sword blade had struck him and marvelled that other than some blood and dull pain, the head wound seemed comparatively minor. Taking confidence from this as a sign that he could chance moving his head without aggravating a head wound, he turned slightly to find out the identity of his mystery benefactor. Hal was surprised to see the younger of the two yeomen that had greeted his parents crouching behind him and he returned the canteen back him, risking a tiny nod of his head in gratitude for the water. The young yeoman's tunic and tabard was heavily bloodstained over the right side of his chest and two pronounced holes could be seen at the centre of the blood stain.

"Do you feel able to stand?"

Hal nodded his head once more with a slight grimace and braced himself against the young yeoman lieutenant as he helped him to his feet. Looking around the clearing properly for the first time since the fight had started, Hal saw four horses in yeomen livery quietly grazing. Scattered around the clearing Hal saw a matching number of bodies wearing the uniforms of the yeomanry lying in the grass and he noted that one of them was the man who his parents had called Tom. The crossbow bolts sticking from his chest indicated that like Hal's father, his role in the encounter had been all too brief. Hal tried to remember how Thomas had died but found that his recollection the fight was still a little hazy.

"You must be a skilled swordsman to kill all those men on your own," said Hal, signalling with his hand away from Thomas's body towards the three dead yeomen lying a couple of metres from him. In reply, the lieutenant cleared his throat with a hint of embarrassment before speaking.

"No. Shortly after you were knocked unconscious by a rather vicious blow to the head, I took a crossbow bolt to the chest that kept me out of the fight for a while."

"Well who did then? My father couldn't as he..." Hal bit back the emotion swelling in his throat and was silent in anguish for a few seconds before continuing.

"Your major is some distance from these bodies. If I was unconscious and you were unable to fight that would only leave my mother and she is hardly the sort of woman who could..." Hal trailed off as he recalled the earlier conversation between his parents and the yeoman major about his mother being the lost Heir to the High Throne. The lost male Heir. With a quizzical expression on his face he once again looked around the clearing.

"Where is my mother?" asked Hal.

A grimace crossed Fairfax's face before he replied. "Sergeant Ackers has her. She blindsided the Princess when she was fighting the third yeoman. Ackers wasn't aware that I had a healing stone on me and assumed that while my wounds weren't of themselves immediately fatal, I would have died in a few days without a weaver to staunch the bleeding inside me."

Fairfax gently pulled at a leather cord around Hal's neck until a glowing blue pebble emerged through the open neck of his tunic. Tentatively, Hal reached up and grasped the pebble, feeling an energising warmth course through his body as the skin of his fingers touched it.

"This saved my life and saved you from disfiguring injury and possibly even death. The sword blow you took nearly severed your ear and would have left you with prominent scaring without the healing stone," said Fairfax.

Hal felt the extent of the sticky matted hair on the side of his head and gently traced his finger around his ear trying to gauge the full extent of his healed injury. Realising just how bad it would have been, Hal could not help but stare in wonder at the healing stone, watching it as it pulsed in time with his own heartbeat. By all accounts he realised, he should be unconscious and bleeding to death right now.

The thought occurred to him that if it could work such wonder on him it might be able to save others with far worse injuries. In part desperation, part inspiration he pointed to the body of his father.

"Could this bring him back?" asked Hal, his voice tinged with need and hope. In reply Fairfax just shook his head.

"Why? Why can this save you and I from such injuries but not him?"

Fairfax closed his eyes and let out a long exhale of air before he spoke. "I'm sorry. Truly. But it's a healing stone not a life stone. The soul still needs to be with the body for healing to occur and your father has been dead for too long now. As it was I was only just able to use the stone. Another few minutes and I'd have lost to much blood for it to work."

Fairfax stood in silence watching as Hal knelt beside the body of his father and said his farewells. He couldn't help but feel envious of the apparent loving relationship between Hal and his father, which was such a contrast to the cold, formal relationship he had with his own. That had all changed when his father secured an application to the Academy for him and he met Sir Thomas Albany. Thomas had taken the 15 year old aspirant cadet under his wing and had guided his career, shaping him into the man he was today in the process and giving him a surrogate father figure. He never realised the true depth of his feelings towards Sir Thomas until the moment in this very clearing that he had been made to choose between his honour as a yeoman and the man he loved like a father. Yet, despite standing there in the clearing as an oath breaker, the worst dishonour that a yeoman could have, Fairfax would not change his actions. Although he felt truly shamed to have broken his oath to the High Queen, he felt the shame of being disloyal to Sir Thomas would have weighed heavier on his heart.

"...I said, do you have any suggestions as what we are going to do next?" asked Hal, interrupting Fairfax's thoughts.

"Next? There is no next. At least for me," said Fairfax in a voice strangely absent of emotion, almost as if he were discussing events unrelated to himself. "As a yeoman I'm oath broken. My name will be read out among the ranks of the dishonoured in the Great Hall and a bounty placed upon my head. No one can give me shelter or succour on pain of death. The only way my honour may be reclaimed would be for a member of the High Family to accept my sword in service so that my dishonour may be forgiven or to cleanse my dishonour at my own hands..."

Grabbing his tabard by the neck with both hands, Fairfax ripped the material apart discarding the tattered red and white cloth at his feet. "I would not change my actions today but I do regret them. I must therefore accept that I have no right to wear this uniform."

Hal recognised the man's shame although he lacked the militaristic upbringing of the yeoman to truly understand it. The martial nature of the yeomanry contrast with the more relaxed upbringing given to him by his own parents. A particular expression his father seemed so fond of using came to mind, which was that 'failure was just the á‰se's way of giving you another chance to succeed'. The reminiscing about his father brought Hal's mind back to the present and he once more gazed upon the prone form of his father.

The thought occurred to him that he could not have dreamed of a more unreal chain of events than he now found himself immersed up to his neck in. This morning he had planned nothing more than attending his chores with the aurochs and practicing his blade work. Now his father was dead, his mother missing and his sisters and brother were gods only know where. And seemingly to compound the unreality of the moment, his mother it seemed was also the rightful male heir to the High Throne. His mother, the legendary 'Wynter Lion'.

Every child in the Heptarchy knew the fable of the heroic Prince Henry who had disappeared in pursuit of a kidnapped Princess and who would one day return to assume the throne and lead the Angelcyn people to greatness. As a child he had never understood his father's unease with the fable, yet now he knew why it was so. It seemed so preposterous that words couldn't even describe it. His mother, this woman who doted on her children and who was never happier than when in the arms of her husband was the Heir. This woman who wore her heart on her sleeve and was prone to laughing or crying at the drop of a hat, was the lost semi-mythical warrior king of the Angelcyn. And even more unreal, Hal thought, he himself was the heir to two thrones - the throne of the Kingdom of Cantia, the very kingdom in which he was born and raised, and the High Throne itself.

The High Throne. A glimmer of an idea began to form in Hal's mind. However, any further thought on the matter was interrupted by a loud gasp from the body of Sir Thomas. His body spasmed to life for a moment before his hands frantically clawed at the crossbow bolts in his chest until they were dislodged. Once the bolts were removed, Sir Thomas's form collapsed back into inactivity save the rising and falling of his chest as he gulped air with a rasping sound into dry lungs.

"Thunor protect us!" exclaimed Hal at the sight. The two young men looked at each other in mute shock before warily advancing to the prone form of Sir Thomas.

"Your master is weaver gifted?" whispered Hal in awe.

"No. The closest he has ever come to being weaver gifted was the six months he wooed Synnove," whispered Fairfax in reply. At the look of confusion on Hal's face he sought to provide further clarification. "She is an apprentice to the Royal Weaver."

"Then how is he alive?" asked Hal prodding the body of Sir Thomas gently with his boot. A startled cry escaped from Hal's lips when Thomas's hand pushed Hal's boot away from him. Warily kneeling next to him, Fairfax noticed a faint glow coming through Sir Thomas's tabard. His fingers carefully undid the top button on Sir Thomas's tunic and pulled out a polished rectangular black stone engraved in words from the Old World tongue. The dull red glow it gave seemed to be drawn back into Sir Thomas with every breath he took.

"It's a life stone," murmured Fairfax in almost reverential tones. "They glow bright green when fully charged and turn matt black when discharged." Looking up at Hal, a smile crept across his lips. "That sneaky bastard got a life stone from Synnove. Do you have any idea how precious these are? They are reserved explicitly for the High Family and the most senior priests and weavers."

Hal knelt down on the other side of Sir Thomas. "My father...maybe it would work on him too?" He reached out to grasp it only for Fairfax to close his hand firmly around Hal's wrist.

"Don't. We have no idea if it has healed him fully. He may need the entire charge."

"It's a risk I'm prepared to take if it would mean my father were to live again. Thomas breathes as we speak, so it probably won't kill him if I removed it. Let go of my hand, yeoman."

Fairfax's expression set in anger as he locked eyes with Hal. "Make me, farm boy."

"Stop it now," said Thomas, his voice dry and hoarse but still strong.

"Take this," said Thomas pulling the life stone from his neck with great effort. "Daniel was like a brother to me. If this helps him at my expense, so be it. I have terribly wronged him and his family today. However, I fear it is too late for him. If his soul has crossed over he may not be recoverable."

In retaliation, Fairfax grasped the pulsating blue pebble hanging around Hal's neck and pulled the chord hard, freeing it.

"Fair exchange," said Fairfax, anger palpable in his voice. He leant down and tied the cords around Sir Thomas's neck, watching as colour flowed back into his pallid cheeks as soon as he placed the healing stone against him.

Hal's headache returned as the healing stone was secured around Sir Thomas's neck. Gritting his teeth he made his way over to his father's body and secured the life stone firmly around his neck. Taking a seat next to his father's body, he laced his fingers together in silent prayer to the á‰se.

~o~O~o~
 

Sergeant-at-Arms Ackers pulled her horse, and by extension the horse tethered to her mount, to a halt as she rounded the bend on the track leading from the cottage to the lower pastures. The scene in front was the last thing she expected, with the bodies of two dead yeoman laid out on the track, one of whom had substantial burns to his body. She noted that a yeoman was in the process of wrapping the other body in his saddle blanket for transport to a location at which he could be properly buried indicating that the immediate conflict, whatever that may have been, was over. On spotting the senior yeoman present, she gently spurred her horse forward until she came to halt a few metres away from a yeoman tending to the injured arm of another yeoman.

"Corporal Wyndham? What has happened here?" she asked. In reply, the yeoman ceased his work bandaging the arm of the injured yeoman and pulled himself to his feet.

"We encountered a weaver bitch. She fried Sergeant Landon and Yeoman Smith cracked his skull open after being flung into a tree when her damn weaver bow exploded," stated the corporal pointing in the direction of two dead yeoman. "Yeomen Hawkins and Lang also received minor burns and bruising when the bow exploded."

"The weaver?"

"We can't find her. I'm guessing she was also flung clear by the explosion as well, otherwise she'd wouldn't have left him behind." Corporal Wyndham gestured back towards the yeomen's horses where the final of the six yeoman was tying a young boy's hands to one of the horses.

"Well, well..." murmured Sergeant Ackers, noting the family resemblance of the prisoner with that of her own captive. "Maybe today is my lucky day."

"Begging your pardon, Sergeant. Where are the others?" asked the corporal.

"Dead. We also encountered weaver trouble," replied Ackers, schooling her expression in a display of remorse. She knew that the average yeoman's distrust of weavers would probably be enough to discourage further discussion on the matter, particularly given their own recent encounter with one skilled in the weaver arts. It occurred to her that maybe she could even work it to her advantage if she spun it right.

"Sir Thomas managed to save a prisoner from them before his death. His orders were for me to take her immediately to Lake Vortigern."

A confused look came over the corporal's face as he looked up at his mounted superior. "Sergeant, surely Lake Vortigern is taking us further away from the bulk of our regiment and deeper into Cantia. Would it not be better to make for the Avalon Road with most haste?"

"Lake Vertigern is about two days eastwards, I know. However, Sir Thomas's orders were very specific on the matter and it is not for the likes of us to question the Queen's Champion. I'm sure he had knowledge of matters we do not."

Acker's stared at the boy for a moment in thought before turning her attention back to Corporal Wyndham. "Send one of your men back to Lieutenant Bathurst in Wye with the bodies of our brother yeomen. The rest of us will proceed with haste to Lake Vertigern. That way, if there has been a change of orders, the lieutenant can send yeoman to meet us at the lake."

Corporal Wyndham nodded his head in acknowledgement, grateful that the Sergeant had heeded his concerns and set about preparing his yeomen for departure. Once she was satisfied that the corporal had matters in hand she rode her horse over the young prisoner, dismissing the guarding yeoman as she pulled her horse to a halt.

"What is your name boy?" she asked.

When he didn't reply, she leant forward to press her hand against his bandaged knee. Acker's was gratified to hear a suppressed squeal of pain through the boy's gritted teeth.

"I'll ask you one more time boy. What's your name?"

"Noah," he sullenly replied.

"How old are you?" she asked. Noah initially hesitated in responding to her until she pressed once more against his knee. This time she added more of her strength to it and only stopped when she saw a tear run down his cheek.

"How old are you?" she asked once more, her voice remaining calm and even in tone.

"Fourteen."

"Well Noah, I'm Sergeant Ackers. I killed your father and brother and I've captured your mother. Unless you do as I say, I will not hesitate to kill her too. Do we have an understanding?" Ackers struggled to keep herself from grinning as the boy deflated when she tugged the reins of the second horse and brought the body of Georgina into view. A simple nod of his head indicated his acquiescence to her demands.

"Smart lad. Now listen closely..."

 

To be continued...

~o~O~o~
 

Firstly, sorry for the delay to the few remaining readers I prolly have!! I had real problems writing one of the sword fight scenes because it seemed quickly to become repetitive. It's amazing how difficult I found to write something I could picture so clearly! I also needed to tweak one of the characters because I feared he was in danger of becoming interchangable with another from the dialogue. I hope I've now achieved that. I'm posting this chapter at the same time on both here and stardust because of the delay between chapters but intend to try and crack on and get chapter four back on track.

Anyway, thanks for reading this far!