Whisper of the Wilding Woods: Chapter 1
In which we meet Aline.
Chapter 1
It seemed to Aline she had only ever imagined a time before being stuffed into this Goddess-cursed carriage that swayed and bounced with such persistent irregularity she hadn’t figured out how to relax at any point during the past three weeks of cross-country travel. Her neck was stiff from having to brace herself against the incessant jostling that made her head feel like a jester’s spinning plate. Her sit bones were bruised and tender, aching fiercely no matter how many cushions she stacked between herself and the wooden bench. Her temples throbbed with dull pain from being subjected to the creaking of the thick iron springs and the crunching of the wheels on the eternally rocky road. Worst of all, her patience had been worn to its last delicate thread. Aline had once lived for the chance to learn anything she could about the world beyond her father’s castle. Now, trapped in a rolling luggage case and being forced to review and repeat trivial details of the history of every family, city, and noble estate in Baerdun had quite thoroughly whittled away whatever small measure of satisfaction she might once have derived from studying the rich histories of foreign lands.
Her tutor insisted a lady must know such things. It had also been made abundantly clear that a lady should never be seen riding alongside her carriage. Nor should a lady debase herself by purchasing breeches and a tunic so she might pass as an attendant. The list of things a lady must not do could fill a book of its own, Aline was learning. In fact, she wondered if Lady Gerda possessed exactly such a book to be consulted each time the tutor contrived new and unpleasant ways of curtailing any activity remotely resembling fun. Back in Hürstbrig, Aline had been given free rein to do as she wished so long as she stayed within the castle walls and didn’t disturb anyone. No one ever came looking for her when she snuck an apple and a loaf of bread from the kitchens, tucked a book or two under her arm, and climbed to the forgotten storage room at the top of the West Tower. At least not after she’d put in the requisite hours her mother demanded she spend in pursuit of political and social development. Once free of obligation, Aline would spend hours in her lofty refuge, often skipping dinner and falling asleep on the luxurious hoard of blankets and cushions she’d secreted up there over the years. The tower room had been her sanctuary for as long as she could remember.
And now she’d never see it again.
“Hmm?” she asked, realizing Lady Gerda had asked her another question.
“Perhaps if you spent more time reading your histories and less time staring out the window like a moon-struck cow, you’d be beyond the need for these lessons,” the tutor said with more venom than Aline was used to. “But until you can name all eight High Nobles of Baerdun, their wives, and their primary heirs, we will continue your education, futile as the effort seems to be.” She paused long enough to let slip a tired sigh. “I won’t always be around to whisper the answers in your ear, you know. You won’t only be embarrassing yourself once we get to Inverburie; your foolish daydreaming will bring shame upon the throne itself.”
Lady Gerda held calm composure among the highest of ladylike ideals, and it was unheard of for her to let her frustrations bubble to the surface. Goddess knew Aline had on many occasions pushed the boundaries of propriety well beyond what most tutors would tolerate, but never once had Lady Gerda displayed so much as a glimmer of exasperation. That she was so visibly flustered now was a bad sign. One Aline didn’t take lightly. At any other time, Aline might have ventured a snarky comment of her own, but some gut instinct warned her to tread lightly for once.
“I’m sorry,” Aline offered. “It’s this ridiculous carriage. I feel like one of father’s hunting dogs locked away in a kennel instead of being let free to run and hunt.” Then, by way of attrition and with more than a hint of proud smugness, she listed off every one of the High Nobles, their wives, and both the primary and secondary heirs for each.
Lady Gerda gave a grudging sound of approval. Before she could continue the lesson, Aline fidgeted, attempting to shift her cushion beneath her in an effort to lessen her discomfort. “Could we not have purchased a more comfortable coach?” she asked, feeling the last threads of her temper unravel and snap.
The tutor pursed her lips, then sighed as she had when explaining anything she believed Aline should have learned already. “Remind me again whose decision it was to travel in secret so that she might arrive early and spy on her betrothed before the official welcome reception? That hair of yours isn’t the only thing about you that’s golden. It’s your tongue that got you into this situation, and now you can’t sweet talk your way out of it like you do everything else. The world isn’t like those tales of adventure you’re so fond of. Out here, I’m afraid you’re stuck with the consequences of your actions. As are the rest of us.”
The carriage springs creaked and the horse’s hooves clopped rhythmically while Aline stewed in her righteous indignation. It was undeniably true that Aline had begged her father for this single concession. After weeks of Aline pleading her case, he’d relented with the caveat that Berthold—the captain assigned to her escort guards—be the one to make all the travel arrangements. It wouldn’t have been politically wise to send an army marching alongside her for protection, and Aline suspected at least some need to maintain secrecy would have been imposed on her anyway, but it felt suspiciously as if Berthold was taking his orders a little too seriously by going out of his way to underplay her status. The carriage was the simplest conveyance Aline had ever beheld and the quality of the inns they’d slept in along their journey had been rustic, to say the least. Not that there seemed to be any better options on this route.
“There’s reasonable circumspection and then there’s intent to cause misery,” Aline said with a straight back and chin held high in defiance of her tutor’s smug expression. “I fail to see why I’m being subjected to the latter. Would a properly padded seat really have marked us as royalty? Or perhaps a carriage with springs that didn’t seem as though they might snap in two at any moment? It’s more than any civilized person should be made to bear.”
“Many people will never even lay eyes a carriage as fine as this, let alone have the privilege of riding in one,” Lady Gerda scoffed. “It’s a good thing your husband-to-be is wealthy enough to keep you in the extravagant comfort you seem to take for granted. Poorly appointed as you may consider it, you should count yourself lucky Berthold allowed us even this luxury. I doubt you’d have enjoyed those first two weeks of rain had we been forced to ride in an open cart with naught but a canvas tarp to protect us.”
Aline knew better than to press the issue any further. Complaining now would only make her sound like a spoiled brat. And it wasn’t the carriage that had worn away her patience until she felt ready to snap at the slightest provocation. Every day on the road brought them another day closer to marrying a man she knew nothing about. A royal marriage and the witnessed consummation to follow. These were not things Aline could discuss with her tutor. They were things she’d never been able to discuss with anyone. As wretched as the journey was, Aline would rather spend the rest of her days roaming the earth in this carriage if it meant not having to face Prince Dainéal and their wedding bed. She’d never so much as kissed a boy before. How was she expected to perform her wedding duty with the King of Baerdun and Goddess knew how many courtiers watching?
Perhaps sensing the storm clouds circling Aline’s thoughts, Lady Gerda suggested they take some time to themselves. She produced a small volume of poetry from her satchel and made a show of adjusting herself in the cramped confines of the carriage in order to catch the thin stream of light filtering in between the curtains of her window. Aline tugged her curtain back as well as she could, cursing beneath her breath when the cheap fabric snagged on the sill during her attempt to scrunch it up for use as a makeshift cushion upon which to lean her head. When at last she was as comfortable as she could manage, her attention wandered to the guard riding alongside. It wasn’t Evaline herself that made her envious, though she was young and pretty in a common sort of way, but rather the graceful way with which she sat her horse. Her hips swayed easily along with the horse’s movements, one hand holding the reins loosely, the other resting casually on her thigh. Aline craved the sunlight and fresh air she was denied in the still and stale carriage interior, which wasn’t helped by Lady Gerda’s heavy application of floral parfum. The woman had become completely nose-blind to the scent, and Aline hadn’t yet found a way to broach the topic of scaling back on her daily dousings. Instead of masking the pervasive odor of sweat and unwashed garments, it only added a new layer of offensiveness to the already oppressive musk hanging in the air.
More than anything else, Aline coveted Evaline’s sword. It was a simple weapon, unadorned and nicked in places from years of use by whoever had handed it down to her, but it represented a freedom and independence Aline would never know. She longed to steal a guard’s uniform and slip away in the night, riding off in search of adventure. Back home, the only place she’d enjoyed half as much as her secret tower room was sitting by the kitchen hearth, listening to old Walram’s stories. Walram had been head of the Konnigsguard until his age had caught up with him, and if Aline timed it right, she could often catch him on one of his attempts to wheedle a flagon of ale and a bite of early dinner from the kitchen. Aline was fairly certain the old soldier had a thing going with Dolf, the stern head chef. Whatever it was that softened the two men enough for the former to indulge her in a few stories and the latter to tolerate layabouts in his kitchens, she took advantage of every opportunity to live vicariously through his tales. Common women were as free to become soldiers as any other, but the same did not hold true for those of noble birth. Especially not strong-headed young girls with royal blood in their veins. As a child, Aline would have given anything to trade her boring life for that of a soldier skirmishing in the borderlands. Now, having attained considerably more wisdom by her sixteenth summer, Aline had put her foolish preoccupation with adventure and glory behind her. Mostly, anyhow. It had proven impossible to entirely give up the dream of a life unencumbered by responsibility and expectation. A life where she wasn’t being shipped halfway across the world to be married to a complete stranger.
But that would never be a choice she’d be allowed to make, Aline reminded herself. No sense in daydreaming of the freedom of the common born when her royal blood bound her to her duty as well as any chains. She could more easily sprout wings and fly to the heavens than she could abandon her marriage and take up soldiering. Goddess, even the life of a tailor or fishmonger would be better. Simpler. Aline imagined herself sitting down to supper after a hard day’s labor with a man she’d come to know and love in her own time. In such a setting, she could more easily imagine giving her husband a tumble before collapsing into bed tired and satisfied. From what she’d gathered from her books, that kind of life was as honest as it could be. Enviable in every way. The sort of existence she’d spent many hours contemplating in the quiet refuge of her tower room. This obsessive pattern of thought had given way to careful planning near the end. Aline had gone as far as smuggling an assortment of useful items into her room. A water skin. A spare dress and smallclothes. A purse with enough geld to last her several weeks by her rough estimate. She’d even begun gathering dried meat and fruit, stowing everything into a satchel she could hide with a carefully draped cloak.
In the end, of course, she’d decided against running. The day of her departure had loomed ever closer, and it seemed her free time had slipped away so quickly she hadn’t had time to notice. Those hours in which she’d not been made to attend her mother in order to listen to lecture upon lecture on the importance of a woman’s duty in marriage had been filled with luncheons, dinners, and parties in her honor. Worst of all, Lady Gerda had begun sharing Aline’s bedchamber. In that last week, Aline had only managed to slip away to her tower room one time. After so many days of never being alone, she’d spent her precious moments of peace collecting her favorite books and packing the remaining belongings into a crate for some future child to find. She’d told herself it had been the wise decision. After all, her father’s guard would have turned the castle and city upside down looking for her. Now, silently enduring the slow march toward the demise of her last childhood freedoms, Aline wondered what might have been had she been just a little bit braver. Might she have made it someplace beyond the reach of her family had she dared to try?
The question would forever remain unanswered. Each night of their journey to Inverburie, Aline was escorted to her room at whichever inn Berthold had chosen. Two of her guardsmen stationed themselves outside her door while the others took their liberty in the common room. Supper was brought directly to the door of Aline’s chambers where it was received and served by Lady Gerda. The story her guards would give anyone curious enough to pry into whom they might be protecting was that she was a merchant’s daughter joining her father in Inverburie where he’d moved his business. The guards wore no colors or insignia to mark them as her father’s soldiers, and her garb and carriage were apparently suited to the daughter of some middling merchant. If anyone remarked on the extravagance of eight keen-eyed, armed guards escorting a merchant’s lone daughter, Aline was never in a position to hear about it. Her existence had been reduced to the stuffy interior of a carriage, cramped rooms in indistinguishable country inns, and the very infrequent occasions on which she was allowed to step out to stretch her legs and enjoy a moment in the cool and refreshing air during a midday halt if an opportunity to water the horses presented itself.
Funny that, Aline thought to herself. The needs of the horses were given more consideration than any of her own. She’d learned the hard way that they wouldn’t even stop for her to heed the call of nature should she require it while on the move. Those first in situ lessons with the small chamber pot had proven quite embarrassing. Aline had yet to decide which was worse; hiking her skirts and squatting in the moving carriage or trying to remain impassive as her tutor and interim lady-in-waiting poured the result out the window in plain view of the Goddess, the guards, and any travelers who should happen to be passing by.
Aline tried to think of something else. Anything else. She wished she hadn’t drawn attention to the insistent pressure in her bladder. It would be hours yet before one of Berthold’s scheduled stops, and she was in no mood for the awkward dance required to relieve herself before then. She could hold it a while yet, she decided. Besides, was that the sound of hoofbeats approaching? Aline pulled the curtain back a little farther and strained to peer ahead as well as she could without sticking her head completely out the window. Lady Gerda appeared to be half asleep while maintaining the pretense of reading her poems, but the woman possessed a preternatural power for sensing disobedience in her young charge. Getting a better look wasn’t worth the chastisement so soon after their little spat.
The hoofbeats slowed as the rider drew closer, and Aline heard the muffled voice of the lead guardsman greeting the newcomer. She couldn’t make out exactly what was being said, so despite her conviction to not incite Lady Gerda’s ire, she risked leaning a little farther out than was entirely proper. Sparing a glance for evidence of Gerda’s disproval, she craned her neck until she could just barely see up past the driver and left-side horse. There was only one man on the road from what she could tell, but the bulk of the carriage blocked most of her view. The carriage slowed to a stop, and Aline could now see the man on the road was a soldier. His uniform was crisp and clean, and his mail gleamed in the sun. He wore a cocky smile, and he reined his horse in neatly a few paces ahead of Berthold. The two men conversed in low tones for a moment, the strange soldier gesturing back behind himself at one point.
Aline watched Berthold dip his chin in a slow and careful nod, then the captain of her guard turned to shout a command that would never make it out of his mouth.
Aline screamed when the tip of the soldier’s long, thin dagger emerged from the back of Berthold’s neck. The soldier yanked his blade free, blood spurting out of the wound despite Berthold’s clumsy attempt to staunch it with his fingers. There was a clamor of men shouting, steel being drawn, and horse hooves tearing at the earth around her. The carriage lurched forward so suddenly that Aline banged her head on the window frame. She ducked inside immediately, but not before she saw Evaline fall from her horse, studded with too many arrows to count.
Hands fell on Aline, grabbing her dress and pulling her downwards. She fought to free herself before realizing it was only Lady Gerda trying to drag her back from the window to hunch low on the far side of the carriage.
“If the carriage stops again, we’ll have to run for the trees,” the tutor said. “It’s the only chance. Run, and promise me you won’t look back no matter what.”
Aline felt warm wetness soak through her smallclothes and into the back of her dress where it was bunched beneath her. She shook her head, unable to form words that made any sense. The carriage was safe. Her father’s men would protect them if they stayed in the carriage. It was the only way.
A guttural scream sliced her thoughts wide open, followed by a soft thump before the carriage hit something that dragged beneath the right side wheel a moment before everything tilted dangerously to one side until the panicked horses managed to heave it over the obstacle. An instant later, they lurched over the bump again when the back wheel hit and rolled over. Aline and Lady Gerda tumbled into one another, Aline coming to rest with her head and neck at a painful angle, the weight of her tutor’s body making it difficult to breathe. She thought the woman was dead until she felt a hand press into her stomach as Gerda attempted to right herself. The tutor managed to clamber backwards, then take Aline’s hand to pull her back into a sitting position.
Lady Gerda clasped her hands on either side of Aline’s head. “You mustn’t let them catch you. Do you understand? I know you have that silly little knife Walram gave you. If one of those men gets near enough, stick it in his groin.” She released one hand to jab two fingers into the soft flesh at the very top of Aline’s inner thigh with such force it made her cry out sharply. “Here. As hard as you can. Then run.”
“I won’t leave you,” Aline said, finding her voice at last. “We’ll run together.”
“Goddess will it so, child,” Gerda replied softly, reaching out to stroke Aline’s hair. She then cocked her head, looking toward the front of the carriage. “We’re slowing. Ready yourself.”
Gerda switched places with Aline, fastening the simple lock that would prevent someone from opening the carriage door from the outside. She then lifted her head up to the window for a peek at their surroundings, screaming and flinging herself backwards as a hand shot in to grab at her. The hand managed to latch onto her hair, and it pulled hard, dragging the tutor toward the open window. Another arm slipped into the narrow space, hooking beneath Lady Gerda’s neck in an effort to drag her outside. The tutor thrashed and clawed at the arm. Blood flowed where her fingernails raked across the bare skin of the man’s hand and wrist, but her face had gone crimson, and she was gradually being pulled clear of the carriage.
Aline hiked up her dress and retrieved the slender silver dagger from the holster attached to her thigh. It had taken her weeks to get used to the awkward tightness of the holster’s band and the feeling of leather and metal on her skin, but now she was glad she’d kept Walram’s secret gift with her throughout the journey. The dagger’s handle felt warm and familiar in her hands from the hours of sparring she’d done against imaginary opponents in her tower room. Hesitating for fear of cutting Lady Gerda or somehow managing to slip and injure herself, she steeled herself to do what had to be done and leaned forward to thrust the dagger into the space beside Lady Gerda’s head, aiming for whatever of the attacker’s body she could reach. She met surprisingly little resistance when the blade penetrated something meaty. Warm stickiness flowed over her hands, and she nearly let the dagger drop when the man screamed and pulled away from the carriage and Lady Gerda. Only Aline’s panicked grip kept her from losing the dagger along with him.
Lady Gerda sank to the carriage floor, clutching her neck and gasping for air. Aline tried to ask her tutor if she was okay, but the woman shoved her toward the opposite door, reaching past to unlatch it and shove it open. Still clutching the bloody dagger in one white-knuckled fist, Aline felt herself being shoved from the carriage. Her momentum carried her several clumsy steps, then she turned to make sure her tutor was close behind. The woman was already out and on her feet.
“Run!” Lady Gerda hissed. “And don’t look back!”
Aline ran as fast as her feet could carry her. Not looking back even when she heard the strangled cries of her tutor being cut down behind her. She stumbled on the soft earth at the edge of the road, catching herself before sprawling onto her hands and knees. Before she could right herself, searing pain exploded in her skull and she was yanked violently backwards. It was only as the sky and the treetops came into view above her that she realized someone had hold of her hair. She landed hard on her bum, too dazed to do anything but twist her head around to look up at the man standing over her. The same man who’d killed Berthold. He’d grabbed the end of her long braid with one hand, the other hand pressed against his side beneath his armpit. Blood soaked his tunic, and Aline realized this must also be the man she’d stabbed blindly from inside the carriage.
The soldier let go of her hair, then stepped on it so she couldn’t crawl away while he plucked Walram’s dagger from her trembling fingers. “I’m going to cut you from belly to tits, then strangle you with your innards for sticking me with this little sewing knife of yours.”
“Pell!” another of the brigands shouted from where he was busy searching Lady Gerda’s body for a hidden purse. “Put the damned blade away. We’ve killed all the guards, and you know the Magus wants the princess alive!”
The man called Pell seemed to think about it a moment before re-sheathing his sword. “Alive doesn’t mean the same as unharmed,” he growled. “Who’s to say she didn’t bang her face up when she fell from the carriage?”
“Fine by me,” the newcomer said. “Just try not to break anything important.”
Pell grinned and knelt down beside Aline. He stabbed the dagger down into the dirt beside her head, then took hold of her hair again, wrapping it around his fist in order to better hold her in place. He stroked Aline’s cheek, and his breath was sour and hot when spoke again. “We’ve got a long journey together, and I expect I’m going to enjoy it a lot more than you will.”
This threat was punctuated with a backhanded blow to Aline’s face that made her jaw feel like it had been knocked from its socket. She was so dazed, she didn’t even think to protect herself against the next blow. This one landed on her temple, the man’s ring tearing a gash across her eyebrow. Tears welled, blurring her version. Dazed and knowing there was nothing she could do to stop it, Aline threw her hands up in front of her face in a futile attempt to at least lessen the impact of the next hit. But it never came. Instead, the soldier made a gurgling choking sound and let go of her hair. Limbs heavy and sluggish, Aline crawled clumsily backwards just in time to get free of the man’s body before he fell forward onto his face. Blinking away tears, Aline saw that the brigand had somehow sprouted an arrow from the back of his neck that he was futilely clawing at while his life bled from him and seeped into the dirt and grass.
Cries of confusion became panicked shouts when another of the men was struck by an arrow that took him clean in the eye. Aline had been left alone with Pell while the others looted their victims, and the man who’d chastised Pell for threatening to kill her seemed to recognize Aline’s opportunity for escape at the same time she did. He launched himself forward just as she scrambled to her feet and raced toward the tree line. The ground was rocky and uneven, and her shoes were ill-suited to running, but soon she was swallowed up by the darkness of the forest and the dense, leafy underbrush. Crashing blindly ahead in order to keep ahead of her pursuer, she didn’t see the steep embankment until it was too late. Arms cartwheeling before her, she pitched headfirst down the slope, making a full rotation of heels over head before bouncing off a tree and rolling to a stop in a clump of bracken. Fighting back waves of nausea, she groaned and attempted to right herself in order to run again.
Before she could figure out which way was up, a hand grabbed her arm at the same time another clamped firmly over her mouth. She struggled to free herself before she was dragged any deeper into the thick underbrush, but it was no use. Her vision had gone cloudy, black spots dancing among the indistinct outline of leaves and branches. With a token last effort, she attempted to bite the hand covering her mouth. She managed to catch her captor by surprise, but her bite was feeble and lacked the strength to do any real damage. Aline did little more than drool on a finger before the hand was yanked away and repositioned to more effectively silence her.
“Calm yourself,” a surprisingly young voice whispered. “I’m trying to help you. Will you please stop thrashing about before you give us away?”
Too tired and numb to fight any longer, Aline gave in. By this point, what did she have left to lose?
