Page 49 of King's Warrior

Niam followed Casseign’s orders and donned a spare set of clothes from a young guard. He also traded his mule for a more rawboned nag, who tried to nip his shoulder. He’d wished to experience adventures as a commoner; now, he’d get the chance. It wasn’t quite as romantic as books made out.

“Captain?” he asked Casseign. “Would you ensure my mother knows of our plan? I’ll need her cooperation.

“I’ll have one of my soldiers deliver the message.” Casseign strode to a young lieutenant, putting their heads together. The lieutenant nodded, and Casseign returned.

“Shall we be off, then?” Niam asked, keeping any uncertainty from his voice. He trusted Casseign with his life, had done so many times. Of Rufe, he had no doubts, and both Draylon and Rufe vouched for Vihaan. What better escort existed?

Casseign nodded, leading the way off the road onto a narrow path, leaving most of the party. Zanial stared after them with cold eyes. Niam would deal with his advisor’s defiance later.

“What happened to the enemy pretending to be a captain?” Niam asked once they achieved some distance from the others, though he might be better off not knowing. No, not true. As aleader, he needed to know and accept the actions of those under his rule.

“Casseign’s got him out of uniform, bound, gagged, and on his way to Dellamar,” Rufe told him. “We’ll have more questions for him later.”

“And the men who rode with him?”

Rufe’s silence provided answer enough. No, Niam wouldn’t have enjoyed a soldier’s life. While he understood the necessity, picturing those men alive hours ago, and now dead somewhere, unburied and unmourned, roiled his stomach.

After a moment, Cass added, “Those waiting at the mine are no longer a threat, either. My men saw to it.”

More? How many lives would Whreyn sacrifice to get his way?

Vihaan, Rufe, and Casseign kept Niam second in line behind Casseign as they rode single file through thick trees down an overgrown footpath, Rufe behind him and Vihaan in the rear. Both Vihaan and Rufe were from the empire, but Niam trusted them more than his own soldiers. Such a sorry state of affairs.

Despite the fear in Niam’s heart, the day seemed peaceful. The scent of pine and mule sweat filled his nose.

A little effort might help him forget being king for a while, though worry flooded his mind for his family. Worrying wouldn’t put Dellamar and the castle in sight any sooner.

They rode silently, save for the squeak of leather, birds chirping, rushing water, and someone occasionally clearing their throat. What of the others who had taken their prisoner on to Dellamar? Were they alright? Should the two groups have stayed together?

At least Zanial no longer watched every move, causing unease to prickle along Niam’s spine.

They stopped by a stream to water the mules and take drinks themselves. Rufe didn’t exactly hover, but he stuck close. They were four commoners to anyone watching, though the other three definitely had a military bearing, a common enough trait in these parts when many an impoverished lad signed on as soldier for the full belly and a bit of coin, returning to civilian life better equipped for survival in an unforgiving land.

“Are you all right?” Rufe murmured as he kneeled to splash frigid water over his face. Droplets glistened from the dark scruff shadowing the lower half of his face. “Brr…” he said, “that’s cold!”

“I’m fine for now.” More so for being in Rufe’s company. A man named commander of the Cormiran army, a solid, honorable man. One who made Niam feel safe. Rufe didn’t appear to want power, favors, or coin. He wanted nothing at all except for Niam.

“Mount up,” Casseign called. “I want to make the cabin by nightfall.”

Niam climbed onto his mule and dropped his sore ass onto the saddle he hated more each time he remounted after a respite. They plodded on, pausing occasionally to listen.

“Stop,” Casseign finally called out. “Wait here while I go on ahead and inspect the cabin.”

They all dismounted, Niam’s back, ass, and legs nearly crying out in relief. Casseign ventured off alone, on foot. Vihaan cast anxious glances at Cass’s back but merely paced in their small clearing. Something small scurried off over the remnants of autumn’s fallenleaves. The trees’ thick canopy blocked most of the snow, leaving a mere dusting on the ground.

Casseign returned a few moments later, a grin on his handsome face. “The cabin is still there and in unbelievably good repair. My father’s skills prevailed. There’s even a lean-to for the animals.” He gestured, “Come on,” with his hand and returned to the path.

They traipsed through woods and brambles again until the trees gave way to a clearing with many stumps in various stages of rot, showing the evidence of a woodcutter.

Farther beyond, a rough-hewn cabin sat on the banks of a stream—small, picturesque, and of surprising quality. Casseign’s father must indeed have been quite the carpenter, along with his woodcutting. A sawmill sat behind the cabin. The trail passed the cabin to where a lean-to offered two stalls.

Casseign had grown up here, at least for a time, in this peaceful woodland. “Why did your family leave?” Niam asked.

“A sinkhole claimed some of my kin, then bandits took over once the villagers left. My father worried for the family, so he moved us closer to Dellamar. There wasn’t much work in the city as many other displaced villagers had the same idea, so I joined a regiment, found I wasn’t half bad at fighting, and worked my way up to captain.” He appeared nearly of an age with Rufe, in his early to mid-thirties.

More and more whispers were reaching Niam concerning where Delletina’s top commander’s loyalties might lie. Casseign presented an intriguing possibility for a replacement.

Casseign led his mule to the lean-to. “There’s no hay, so we'll have to forage for them or let them graze on what they might find in the clearing. One thing about mountain weeds—they’re hardy no matter the season.”

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