Chapter 7

As the horsemen closed, my vision fixated on those sharpened points. Clearly they were from the "spit'em and let somebody else sort'em out" school. No pansy ass "innocent until proven guilty" bullshit for these bad boys.

Their abruptness, however, left little time to explain my presence here in the big woods. With the looming cavalry, it was rapidly dawning on me that standing in the road at an active ambush site, with my sword in view and loaded crossbow in hand, might be an error. A big one, maybe my last one! And grounding that crossbow was not slowing them.

Just as I made a despairing curse at Robert for his 'fucking secret keys', a strident bugle call echoed through the woods, followed by the insistent ratta-plan of a kettledrum.

The lancers' discipline and training more than matched their aggressive tactics. Spears snapped up to vertical as four galloping horsemen altered course to pass me, taking a blocking position in the road. Two horsemen skidded to a halt as they bracketed me mere feet away, their lances leveled while their excited horses danced in place.

The drumming and bugle calls continued in counterpoint, as more horses thundered up to join the van. Mounted crossbowmen charged past, linking up with the advance guard, as more guardsmen dismounted up and down the road -- some facing me with drawn sword, others facing outwards.

Guidiron, along with the Halbmond of the mounted bugler among a cadre, announced the leadership cantering to the fore, closely followed by a massive black coach with its stillpounding war drum mounted on the roof. The coach was festooned with heavilyarmed soldiers on the roof and hanging from every window and door.

My eyes were drawn past the coach to a lone figure in black armor laying over the horse's neck approaching along the road margin at a 'horse killing' gallop, passing the others while continuously whipping the frothing horse already at a dead run.

Closer, the figure was up off the saddle, holding the saddle horn, with only one foot in a stirrup, still lashing the horse. As the horse threatened to trample me, the black clad figure dropped off, running next to it holding the saddle, then let go, throwing her helmet on the ground, grabbing me in a fierce hug. The impact took us both off our feet, rolling on the ground.

Luckily, I ended up on top. Not very chivalrous, I know. But God Damn It, she was the one in the heavy plate armor.

Even at that, I was bruised and out of breath as the noncom helped me to my feet. By contrast, Nadia bounced to her feet, grabbing me and again crushing me to her chest. Another experience fairly ruined by combined breastplate and mail. (Okay, the kiss was nice. Turns out Nadia is a world class kisser, with the softest, 'poutiest' lips this side of Angelina Jolie.)

I was even more out of breath as she pulled back fractionally. I was looking deep into those green eyes with little flecks of gold, as the catcalls and whistles built in volume. She held me at arms length, examining me with a critical eye as she asked loudly with much concern, "My hunter, are you all right?"

The noncom answered for me, "He barely survived our rescue, never mind the greeting, your Grace."

She looked over with one eyebrow up, and in a withering tone said, "Fuck you, Nolan."

He nodded calmly, saying blandly, "Yes, of course your Grace, as you wish."

While their little byplay was going on, I was catching my breath and observing the scene. Aside from the clot of soldiers who were standing around grinning and watching us, the rest were vigilant in surveillance of the forest with their weapons at ready. Observant Lancers were continually up and down the road.

Looking back at the Nadia, I saw an adorable smudge of dirt on one cheek, with more dirt streaking her armor, and even some in her hair from our rolling around. Her long black shiny hair was lying over her shoulder, done in a single tight braid held by alternating silver and gold colored bands. On second thought, they probably were silver and gold!

I looked around for the black baron Radcliff. He was next to the carriage, still mounted. The tallest horse in the company, of course. Tallest fucking horse I'd ever seen. Of course! His face in that perpetual scowl I was now so used to. Of course.

A deep well-modulated voice spoke up loudly, "Why don't you just drag him into the ditch, Nadia?"

My head snapped around to see a tall, black clad figure slouched comfortably on horseback, with one leg casually hooked over the saddle horn. Long blond hair framed his handsome face, which was marred by a long crescent scar puckering one cheek from jaw to temple. His eyes glittered even in repose, but he seemed in good humor with his swipe at the princess.

The comment caused a grinning Nadia to turn facing him. She clearly took no offense. Nadia seemed altogether comfortable in this company, and from what I could see, they respected her as a comrade besides her rank... or perhaps more to the point, despite her rank.

Nadia looked up to ask goodhumouredly, "You have a problem with my behavior, Logan?"

Logan leered as he drawled, "Certainly not, Nadia. My concern was only and always for the tender sensibilities of these poor horses."

Now his eyes found me and I got full benefit of his measuring gaze as Logan said softly to no one in particular, "I have no problems that can't be dealt with on the practice square or outside the castle wall at dawn."

He lifted the reins, breaking his intense scrutiny, and his horse turned, walking away slowly as he slouched in the saddle. At that moment, Radcliff's big black horse shouldered into our circle. The noncom Nolan had his back to the black baron, and I caught the flash of his smirk as he winked, just before his countenance returned to its professional mien.

Radcliff was in full cry immediately. "God damn you. Explain what the fuck is going on here, immediately. You impertinent cocksucker, I'll leave you kicking at the end of a rope if you don't tell me everything to my satisfaction right now."

I stepped back, gesturing silently to the two bodies. Although they hadn't been completely ignored, they certainly hadn't gotten much attention before now. Then I drew their awareness to the rope hawser. Nolan pointed, and the bugler stepped down, pulling the saddlebags off his horse. They were both kneeling next to the bodies examining them and their weapons, while scrutinizing the contents of the bugler's kit.

During this interlude Nadia grabbed my arm, pressing against me, those moist full lips and little pink tongue poised inches from my ear. Once again, armor and chain mail ruined what might have been a lovely effect. The only heat I got for my trouble was from the laserlike glower of the black baron. He, for his part, sat in his saddle muttering about what was going to happen if he didn't get an answer "right fucking now."

Nolan finally stood up, followed by the bugler, now holding two pieces of paper. The bugler spoke directly to the Baron, "Both of them, Sir. They match the descriptions we have of members of the highwaymen. There is no doubt with the giant and the big hammer."

Gesturing with his papers as he continued in our silence, "This bowman, with his short bow and barbed arrows, is also known to be part of the rabble."

Radcliff was off his mount and kneeling next to the giant just that quick. He stared pensively at their faces poking them with his finger. Looking up he asked in an aggrieved tone, "Where the fuck ARE they?"

Nolan musing answered what was likely a rhetorical question, "Giant hasn't been seen in the kingdoms since the robberies started. The bowman is unremarkable. He could blend into any market day in Castle Town, or the less savory river taverns outside the walls of our own King Holm might be a haven for him."