The Third Son

First edition. June 2021

Copyright ©2021 G. Younger

ISBN-13: TBD

Author: Greg Younger

Developmental Editors: Bud Ugly

Historical / Battle Expert: Old Rotorhead

Line / Copy Editors: Bud Ugly, TheMikeBomb, Zom, and Old Rotorhead

Last One Through: Bud Ugly

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All characters depicted in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

 

 

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Notes from Author

 

 

Prologue

100 Years in the past:

Something was stalking them, and it felt like Death.

Thomas Mycroft and five young rangers in training sprinted through the bright moonlight toward the White Woods and out of the Wastelands’ blighted fields. The woods had been so named because the trees were petrified.

Up ahead, he noted that the dead trees were strangely beautiful. Moonlight filtered through the bare white branches and reflected off the smooth trunks, creating the impression that the trees were glowing softly.

He came out of the Wastelands and slowed to a trot when he set foot in the White Woods. Some said this land was haunted because an ancient battle had occurred here. The magic that had been unleashed had not only killed men and beasts, but also the forest itself.

Thomas took a moment before he continued his run as he called upon all his senses to try to figure out what was out there that was putting him on edge. An uneasy feeling had the hair on the back of his neck standing up.

He searched for something that wasn’t supposed to be here, something out of place. It was irritating that it seemed just out of his grasp. Something evil had disturbed his gut feel of rightness. He’d learned to trust that instinct at an early age.

His band of young Rangers had been sent on a training mission. Everything was going well when Thomas suddenly felt the pressure in the back of his head, as though someone was trying to get in. Whoever or whatever had tried to invade his mind retreated, leaving a foul taste in his mouth. Then he could no longer sense it. Something was seriously wrong.

Thomas led his charges to a small, round clearing surrounded by a ring of tiny gray stones. He could feel the traces of protection still present. It gave him a chance to check his trainees to see if any of them were acting strangely, as if they were under a magical influence. They all seemed to be eager to prove themselves. Thomas didn’t sense anything wrong in any of them, but then, what was it he was feeling?

Thomas took a deep breath and quieted his mind as he gave a hand signal to tell his team to keep watch. He could feel his heart beating a mile a minute. He focused on calming himself from whatever had spooked him.

Thomas did as he was trained and scanned the area in a quick, methodical manner. He took in a deep breath and smelled the scent of the rich earth, the sweat from his exertion, and the pine trees they’d just come out of. Thomas could almost taste the humidity in the air. He heard the insects and birds. He put his palm against the ground and used his woodlore to feel the surrounding forest.

Then there was a snap of a twig that was too close for comfort, and the forest went quiet. Thomas opened his eyes, found an arrow in his quiver, and put the notch over the string of his bow. The other five young Rangers did the same, each watching a different direction as they had been trained.

Something told him they had to move, and fast. Thomas gave them hand signals, and they all broke cover and headed down the hill. He could hear the river, swollen from the spring thaw, moving fast. He needed to get his charges across the water.

The feeling of foreboding was almost overwhelming, as if the hounds of Hell were on their heels. Thomas could tell it was affecting them all. He gave a deep sigh when his trainees forgot what they had learned about moving quietly and began to run headlong down the hill, making enough noise to wake the dead.

Whatever was after them seemed pleased with their fear, as if the chase was going to be over soon. He knew he had to do something, or they would all die.

Thomas saw a partially downed tree to the left and ran up its side so he could get high enough to see what was coming after them. His heart threatened to explode when he saw a pack of the most enormous wolves he had ever seen trotting down the hill. It was as if they were herding him and his charges towards something.

His senses told him they were dangerous, but that there was something far worse ahead of them.

The wolves were at the extreme edge of his bow range as he drew back and let fly his first arrow. As soon as it was gone, he was letting another arrow fly. He had aimed at the two largest males in the center of the pack. As soon as he let loose, a small female jumped in front of the males and cut them off as if to protect them. The two arrows took her down.

The pack stopped to figure out what had happened, and then the largest male looked him in the eye. Thomas felt an instinctual fear because this was no ordinary wolf. This wolf had intelligence that shouldn’t be there. Thomas was more afraid than he had been in years. He jumped off the tree and ran for his life, not caring how much noise he made. His only goal was to get to the river before the pack.

As he ran, Thomas prayed that he wouldn’t step in a hole or trip over a root. He heard a howl that caused the forest to explode. It seemed every animal that had hunkered down to hide broke cover in terror. He knew the call was for him and ran even faster, knowing they would soon be here.

Thomas’s chest felt like it was on fire as he bounded closer to the raging water of the river. He felt a sharp pain that reminded him of his old knee injury.

As he broke out of the tree line along the riverbank, he could see his young Rangers were safely on the other side of the river, catching their breath. One of them pointed, and they all stood up and drew as one. He had a momentary sense of pride as he saw them work as the team he’d trained them to be.

Thomas was afraid to look back for fear a momentary hesitation would have the beasts upon him. He watched as five arrows seemed to come falling out of the sky right at him. He put his faith in his fellow Rangers and kept running forward. The arrows flew over his head, and he heard yelps as they thudded home, followed by the satisfying sound of falling wolves. The next wave of bolts had been unleashed as he reached the water’s edge.

Thomas dove headfirst, as far as he could, and landed in the icy black torrent of water. The cold made his already overworked chest tighten up as he tried to catch his breath. The current caught him, and he suddenly felt himself out of control, being rushed down the river.

Over the roar of the river, he heard the screams. In his heart, he knew his charges had been found by the evil he sensed. His only thought was to get back to the castle with the warning of what had entered their lands. He felt tremendous pain as he slammed into a submerged rock, but then his consciousness slipped mercifully away. His last coherent thought was for his fallen comrades as their lives were taken.

◊◊◊

Thomas moaned and opened his eyes to darkness. He tried to sit up but hit his head. He could still hear the roar of the river nearby as he attempted to figure out where he was. Thomas was still in several inches of water that was chilled by the recent thaw. He had to get out of this water because he could feel his life-force slowly being drained.

Thomas took stock of his situation. For the moment, he pushed down his sorrow at the deaths of his fellow Rangers. He would mourn them later. Somehow, Thomas knew the survival of his people depended on him getting the word to them.

He let his senses check his surroundings. He felt the power of the river pounding a short distance away. In his current condition, going back into it would be a death sentence. Thomas discovered he was in a small cave under the bank of the river. Over the years, the rush of the spring thaw had cut out this space.

As he let his sense out further, he felt the wrongness was looking for him. He quickly pulled back. Then he felt air brush across his cheek.

He followed the air movement with his hand, and he found a small hole. He put his hand in the hole and felt warmth. Thomas grabbed his knife, which had miraculously not been lost in the water, and began to dig. It was slow going, but he eventually dug an opening large enough for him to wiggle out of the water and let the warmth seep into his bones.

Thomas was able to think more clearly now as he felt that something was further ahead. He reached over his head and began to dig, slowly getting further into the little tunnel he had created. Thomas breathed a sigh of relief when then he broke through into a larger space. It was pitch black, so he put his hand on the cave floor to use his woodlore. It told him it was much larger than he initially guessed, and Thomas was able to stand.

He could sense an ancient power here that was drawing him forward. There were legends of great magic users, and relics of tremendous power were rumored to still exist. Thomas wondered if he had found a remnant of the past.

Up ahead, he saw a faint white glow. He rushed forward and tripped, falling face-first over something. A scream caught in his throat as he looked into the empty eyes of a long-dead warrior lying in front of him. Thomas cautiously got up and moved closer to the glowing light. It revealed bodies lying around an altar from which the luminescence was coming.

Thomas cautiously stepped forward and saw the glow was coming from a small crystal attached to a necklace. If he’d seen it in a market, he would have passed it by. There was nothing special about it to look at, but Thomas could sense the power it held. He reached out to pick it up.

As soon as he touched it, the crystal brightened, and he felt a power enter his body. Thomas was frozen in place, but for some reason, he wasn’t afraid. He was being judged, and he could tell the power was excited.

Then he felt a profound sadness. Thomas had been found lacking. He felt the power retreating back into the crystal, and he found himself being drawn in as well. Thomas discovered many others there with him, greeting him like an old friend. He felt himself leave his body and knew it had died.

The crystal began its wait anew for the right person to bind with.

◊◊◊

 

Chapter 1

Today was the Samhain festival, which marked the darker half of the year or the beginning of winter. It was when cattle were brought back down from the summer pastures, grain dried, and livestock slaughtered and cured for the winter. To mark the day, a great festival was always held in Rutland, the Duchy of Montrose’s seat.

Tonight, bonfires would impart special protective and cleansing powers to get us through the winter, or so the old ways held. Nowadays, we were more enlightened in our beliefs. Over the years, the Church had eradicated many of the old views but tolerated traditional events like this.

The day also marked the liminal ritual or rite of passage. For Thomas Mycroft, he’d just turned eighteen, making him a man. His father, the Duke of Montrose, would decide his fate as a third son.

Third sons were a problem for a hereditary peerage. They couldn’t inherit, which made them dangerous to the heir. In the Duchy of Montrose, the heir was the firstborn, Henry. The second son was traditionally sent to the clergy, where he would renounce all his rights to inheritance. Philip had been sent to an abbey in Inglewood, but Thomas knew that he would be back today for the festival.

The third son was tricky. They could be used for political marriages or put into the military—usually somewhere far from home. The Duchy of Montrose had a proud tradition of producing Rangers who were known for their woodcraft. Thomas was named for a famous ancestor who had been in the Rangers nearly a hundred years ago.

Most third sons never survived childhood. They were susceptible to accidents or died in childbirth.

Thomas was different. His mother had been Lady Maria, sister to the Duke of Pekin. It had been a second marriage for Charles, whose first wife had died in childbirth as she delivered Philip. Lady Maria had been a political arrangement ordered by King Edward, Charles’s uncle.

Duke Able Bourbon and Duchess Caroline had been unable to produce an heir. Thomas would be that heir until the Duke and Duchess of Pekin had a male child, which happily occurred when Thomas had turned five.

Shortly after his cousin was born, his mother had become concerned with Thomas’s safety. She talked the duke into sending him to a cabin in the woods to be raised by an old woman he would learn to love, Nana Millicent. It was hard for a boy that young to be taken from living in the family castle to such humble surroundings.

Even though he’d been banished from the primary living residence and ignored in public, his father and mother would come to visit him on his birthday each year. Nana would have him dressed in court clothes that would magically appear, and he and his father would have a quiet talk. They would discuss plans for his education in the coming year.

It wasn’t until he was older that he began to understand that the duke was teaching him what was required to run an estate. Each year he would be assigned to learn from different masters or tradesmen. Over the thirteen years he lived in the woods, he worked as a farmer, tanner / leather maker, carpenter, mason, blacksmith, groom, merchant, and bartender / brewer.

The last may sound like an odd job for his father to have him do, but he had other motives. Thomas learned to listen to people and find out important information. He’d also been instructed on how to run a business.

There were three other skill sets his father had him work on while doing these apprenticeships. Roger, their huntsman, taught him woodcraft and the bow. Sword Master Nathan taught Thomas to fight, while Lady Dian educated him on reading, writing, and doing his sums. Nana Millicent wasn’t to be left out. She knew that if Thomas ever ended up at court, he would need the skills to survive. She taught him how to be a gentleman and about the world of court politics.

On his thirteenth birthday, his mother failed to arrive with his father. Thomas was told that she had fallen into the river and had drowned. Nana Millicent and the duke had talked at length in private that trip. Thomas could tell they were worried about his safety.

When he talked to his father, it had been decided Thomas would remain in the woods and train full-time with Huntsman Roger. Thomas didn’t see his father, or anyone from the castle, over the next four years. It was as if his father had forgotten about him.

Shortly after he met with his father, Lady Dian returned to the castle. Nana Millicent took over his formal education to Thomas’s great disappointment. None of the other children in the village his age could read or write. To add to what he considered wasted time, Nana Millicent began to teach him different languages.

Thomas was relieved when Sword Master Nathan still came to his cottage for a week each month to train him to use edged weapons. From him, Thomas and Nana Millicent would get news of what was happening outside their little area in the woods.

Duke Charles’s newest wife was Duchess Ann, who was currently with child. If she had a boy, the situation at court could get interesting. There were rumors that theirs was a loveless marriage and that the duchess had ambitions. Thomas was glad he was never thrown into the snake pit of court politics. If the duchess could produce a son, her already formidable position in the duchy would be even stronger. There would still be only one heir, of course, that being Henry. But second wives had been known to scheme on behalf of their children before.

A week after his eighteenth birthday, he was summoned to Rutland for the liminal ritual, where he would learn his fate. This was when the boys and girls his age would be selected by masters to become apprentices. If they were not chosen, the duke would assign them jobs.

Thomas had come a day early so he could get the lay of the land. Rutland had grown since he left thirteen years ago.

Roger had taught him how to be observant and to be prepared. Not that he expected any danger, but he had been trained to be cautious since he didn’t know precisely what lay in store for him. Thomas had been out of the court and its politics for many years. Nana Millicent had trained him in what he might expect as a third son with a dual bloodline. Thomas’s hope was that his father would send him to his great-uncle, the King, to join his guard.

Sleeping in a pub had caused him to have a restless night. Finally, he had to get up to explore.

There were torches along the walls and on poles which gave off enough light to see in the early morning. Rutland was alive with activity as people scurried to get ready for the Samhain festival. The noise jarred Thomas, who was used to the quiet of the forest.

People tried to talk over the noise as hooves clacked against cobblestones, nails were hammered as merchant stalls were erected, and an anvil was struck as the blacksmith began his day. Thomas let the activity wash over him. He only wanted to put the thoughts of the coming court intrigue out of his mind.

Throughout the week leading up to tonight, there had been a tournament of arms. Thomas had wanted to join, but Nana Millicent had forbidden it. The finals would commence at first light to kick off the day’s festivities.

Thomas had staked out a prime location for the contest. There was an ancient oak tree on the edge of the practice yard where the tournament was being held. He found himself a sturdy branch he could sit on and have a prime view of the action.

The final contest was between Sword Master Nathan and a mercenary. The winner of the bout would earn a purse of twenty coins, which was a huge prize. By the crowd’s size, Thomas judged that almost the whole town had come to see the spectacle.

Thomas saw his father and two older brothers arrive and take seats upon a raised dais to signal that the bout would soon begin. From his perch, he heard his father give a short speech, and then the match started.

The two men extend their swords as they began to circle each other. With a mighty clash of steel, the battle commenced.

As the bout went on, he could see the exertion both combatants were putting forth. Even in the still cool morning air of late fall, wearing armor was hot work. Each man began to tire, and perspiration dripped from their brows. Most sword fights ended quickly, but these two combatants were evenly matched.

The mercenary looked to be almost done. He wasn’t holding his form correctly anymore, and Thomas detected a slight quiver in his sword tip. It was only a matter of time until Nathan won.

Then the mercenary kicked Nathan in the knee, causing him to go down. This was considered terrible form, and Marshal Victor, responsible for the duchy’s protection, stopped the bout. Nathan was given a moment to collect himself, and when he said he could continue, the contest began anew.

The large audience which had gathered around the yard jeered the mercenary. Thomas knew Nathan was tough, and while he now had a slight limp, he prepared to face his opponent. When they met again in the center of the yard, it was as if the mercenary had been holding back. It quickly became apparent who the superior sword fighter was.

Thomas looked around the yard and noticed some men dressed in leather were cheering now. He smiled when he realized their ruse. A group of men had been planted in the crowd to take bets against the mercenary. They’d had their champion hold back to get the best odds possible, and then he was to show his true skill and win the contest.

Thomas didn’t think the mercenary had ever crossed blades with the likes of Nathan before. He slipped down from his branch and found one of the new faces.

“Are you taking bets?” Thomas asked.

“Yes, lad, but as you can see, it has almost been decided. I would hate to take your money,” the mercenary’s cohort said.

“I think the Sword Master can still win. What odds will you give me?”

When Thomas showed him his coins, the mercenary gave him a gapped-tooth smile as his breath about knocked Thomas down. They argued back and forth until Thomas relented and accepted eight-to-one odds for his ten-coin bet.

It was all the money he’d saved, but his gut told him Nathan would win. If Roger or Nana Millicent knew what he had just done, he would’ve been caned.

It was exhilarating to make such a wild gamble. Thomas noticed the duke’s guard had strategically placed themselves in the crowd. They were ensuring the mercenaries didn’t decide to run off if they lost their bets.

He joined the crowd to cheer on Nathan. His teacher used his sword as if it was an extension of his arm. He watched the sword master’s practiced ease that Thomas had witnessed countless times in their practice yard. Both men were putting on a show of skill that had the crowd gasping.

Thomas thought Nathan was done for several times, but he somehow managed to escape the traps the mercenary laid. Then, suddenly, it was over. Nathan made an unexpected move that could barely be followed, and the mercenary’s sword went flying from his hand. The mercenary dropped to his knees in surrender as Nathan put his blade to his throat.

The crowd quieted as all eyes turned to the raised platform where the duke and his sons sat. Duke Charles rose and indicated that Nathan was the winner.

“Well fought, Sir,” the mercenary said as he extended his hand in friendship.

Nathan grasped it and helped him up.

“The honor is mine,” Nathan responded.

Thomas’s father came down to congratulate the contestants. Thomas didn’t need to hear his father’s speech, so he found the man he made a bet with. He found him shaking his head as two of the guard were standing on either side of him. Thomas smiled at the guards while the mercenary wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“I take it you don’t have my eighty coins?”

The man shook his head ‘no’ in answer, now ashamed at what greed had done to him. The duke’s marshal, Victor, came over to see what the problem was. When he was told, he rounded up all the mercenaries and walked them to their camp. Thomas wasn’t the only one who was owed money.

◊◊◊

By the time they got to where the mercenaries were camped, they’d all been gathered, including their champion, Ragnar. A crowd of winners was brought to their camp outside the city gates. They looked nervous when they heard the sum owed to Thomas since it was twice what was owed to everyone else combined.

Word had gotten around as to who he was, and as the duke’s son, it would be expected he would collect his winnings first, which would leave the other winners with nothing.

Thomas had met Victor on occasion. The marshal and Nathan were good friends, and Victor came with him once or twice a year for a vacation of sorts. Victor liked to hunt, and Roger would accompany him while Nathan taught Thomas.

“Victor, a word if you please,” Thomas said, as he stepped away from the gathered crowd so he could have a private word with the marshal. “How much are their losses?”

“One-hundred-eight coins, and they only have thirty-two coins in their purse. You might get another thirty if you sold their horses and equipment, leaving them forty-six short,” Victor said as he scratched something in his beard. “We’ll either have to jail them until the funds can be raised or sell them as indentured servants if their families cannot come up with the money.”

Thomas thought about what his older brothers or father would do. They would take the coins, sell the mercenaries’ belongings, and then let them rot in jail. There had to be a better solution. For the men who had bet on the fight, a few coins could mean the difference between feeding their families during the winter or not. He directed Victor to pay off his father’s people, and then he would talk to the mercenaries about their remaining debt to him.

When they were done, Thomas had four coins, all their equipment, and was still owed forty-six, assuming he could sell their horses and gear for the estimated thirty coins. Thomas was disappointed to find he was six coins poorer than when he started the day. While he now owned all their goods and equipment, he would still have to sell it.

Once the others had been paid, Victor brought the mercenaries to Thomas. A slight man stepped forward and introduced his fellow mercenaries. Ragnar was the man who had fought, Gabe was the one who took his bet, Eric and Grim were brothers, and their leader and spokesman was Leif. Leif bowed deeply to Thomas.

“Kind sir, have mercy. We don’t have the funds to pay our debt, but we have the means to earn it.”

“Forty-six coins is a large sum. I would suggest you lock them up and send word to their families to pay the debt. If you let them leave, you’ll likely never see them again,” Victor warned.

The mercenaries fidgeted as they began to realize their fate. Thomas guessed that their families could never come up with that kind of money. Victor was right. If he let them go, they would disappear. The mercenaries’ other problem was that they would be hard-pressed to earn him back his money without their horses and weapons.

A page ran up and interrupted their discussion.

“Duke Charles has requested Thomas’s presence.”

“I’ll have them break down camp, store their gear and horses, and hold them until you’re done,” Victor said.

“Set them up in the guards’ barracks for now,” Thomas decided and then looked at Leif, “Do I have your word that you won’t leave?”

“I personally guarantee it,” he said and then paused before adding, “Take Ragnar as your personal bodyguard.”

Marshal Victor leaned close to Thomas so only they could be heard.

“That might stop any foolishness,” was his advice.

Thomas nodded to Ragnar to accept his protection.

He smiled because the young page was almost bouncing up and down with the nervous energy of youth. Thomas had no doubt he would like nothing better than to run back to the castle.

“Lead the way,” he told the page.

The page took off and ran ahead. When he saw that Thomas and Ragnar were standing there smiling at his antics, the boy blushed and waited for them.

“Are you worried about anything?” Ragnar asked as they walked to the castle.

“I doubt there will be anything obvious, but if I should have an accident … no tears would be shed.”

Their discussion ended when they caught up to the page.

◊◊◊

The castle had initially been the home of a king who ruled the surrounding lands several hundred years ago. Its location had been selected because it was the highest ground for miles around, and there was a good source of water there. Thomas had fond memories of climbing the watchtower, from which it felt like you could see the whole duchy.

The castle was surrounded by a substantial inner wall within the town of Rutland. The gatehouse had two guards closely watching everyone as they came in. Thomas noted that there were two archers stationed on the battlement, ready to lend their aid if required.

With the aid of the page, they were passed through to the inner grounds. Several buildings had been built along the inner walls, including the stables, guards’ barracks, and women’s quarters. Towards the back, the manor house and great hall had been built in front on an ancient keep, or fortified tower. The keep was where the duke would go if they were attacked. It was considered the last line of defense.

Thomas remembered playing in the keep’s underground tunnels. An escape route led out the back into a grove that he had fond memories of. As Thomas looked around, vague recollections started to flood back. It was a little hazy because he’d only been five when he’d left.

“I thought Father had rid himself of you.”

Henry turned to the boys behind him. Each was the son of a local household, and they clung desperately to the company of the duke’s firstborn child—their only hope of gaining his father’s favor.

Thomas stopped and straightened, then turned to face his older brother. Their father must have told Henry that Thomas was coming today; otherwise, he doubted his brother would have recognized him after all these years.

Henry’s surcoat was dark blue—the color of Montrose. The coat was trimmed in wolf fur, and Thomas had no doubt his breeches were sewn from the finest silk. His clothing was flashy, and his smirk was made of pure arrogance.

Henry was five years older than Thomas and had reached his full manhood. Thomas was delighted to see that he was both taller and more muscular than his older brother. He took an aggressive step with his fist balled up, which caused Henry to flinch. Thomas was content that Henry’s entourage noticed and nervously laughed.

Thomas had no doubt that if the confrontation became physical, he might very well be able to take all five of them.

“I should have you whipped. You need to learn your place and be more respectful. I am the future duke. It’s my birthright, granted to me by the God of Heaven and the God of Earth,” Henry seethed.

“Stop!”

Everyone turned and saw the duke’s red face. Henry made some apologetic noises, and then he and his followers left Thomas to face his father alone.

The duke glanced behind him and addressed Ragnar.

“You faced our sword master today. What are you doing with my son?”

“Me and mine owe him a debt. I’m here to ensure no harm comes to him,” Ragnar answered.

The duke gave his son an appraising look.

“If Henry had recognized who was with you, he would have been more respectful. I applaud you on taking precautions,” Duke Charles said, and then turned and walked toward the manor house.

Thomas assumed they were supposed to follow, so he and Ragnar fell in behind his father. Nothing was said until they entered his father’s inner chambers.

“Have a seat,” Duke Charles said as he went to his desk looking for something.

He found an envelope and handed it to Thomas. Thomas noted that it had the royal seal affixed to it. The letter was from his great-uncle, the King.

“Please open and read it.”

Thomas broke the wax seal and unfolded the letter.

 

I wish to mark, by this personal message, the appointment of Thomas Mycroft, third son of Charles Mycroft, Duke of Montrose, to serve in the Royal Guard.

Underneath was a personal note in different handwriting. Thomas guessed that the original letter was written by the King’s chamberlain.

Thomas,

Present this letter to your father, and he will kit you out and provide you traveling money.

Please invite Millicent Bourbon to join you in Inglewood.

With Fondest Regards,

Your Great-Uncle Edward

Thomas handed the letter to his father to read. When he was done, his father actually smiled.

“This is a great honor for both you and our family. Come. Let’s get you set up to be presentable at the royal court. Can’t have my son looking like he was raised in the woods.”

◊◊◊

Their first stop was at the armory, where they found Sword Master Nathan waiting.

“Did you get your appointment to the Royal Guard?” his teacher asked.

“I did.”

Nathan wrapped him in a fierce embrace. Between his father’s, Nathan’s, and Ragnar’s inputs, Thomas was soon fitted out with weapons that were fitting for a duke’s son. Then his father used a key to unlocked a trunk. Inside, there was a broadsword.

“This was gifted to me when I married your mother. The blade is made of Valyrian steel. I was told Valyrian swords are magical blades that can cut through almost anything and keep a sharp edge without any need of honing,” Duke Charles shared.

Thomas accepted the blade and inspected it. He could guess why his father never used it. There were no intricate designs or adornments. The sword looked … functional. He knew his father was very keen on appearances.

When Thomas first held the blade, he was surprised at how light it felt. If he’d found it in the armory, Thomas would have assumed that it was not a proper broadsword. He would have worried it would not be strong enough to withstand the rigors of battle.

Usually, such a weapon weighed over four pounds. In a battle, that was both good and bad. The long double-edged blade was made more for cutting than stabbing. The momentum and heft of a blade equaled more significant damage. That was why a knight on the back of a warhorse was worth at least ten normal men at arms.

But the disadvantage was that wielding the massive three-foot blade was tiring. Knights had to be in superior physical shape to fight with a broadsword. It also required years of training to use. It was meant to be an offensive weapon because you used two hands to hold the blade. You couldn’t use a shield in your off-hand, which meant you had to be an expert swordsman.

Thomas smiled when he handled it one-handed and twirled it around to get its feel. His father reached into the trunk and pulled out a plain scabbard designed to be strapped to his back.

“Thank you,” Thomas said.

Their next stop was the stables, where they met Stable Master Carl. The duke explained that he would need a warhorse for his son.

“I have a gentle gelding that might suit,” Carl suggested.

“Not Henry. My third son, Thomas, who has just been accepted for the King’s Royal Guard.”

“I … I see,” Carl said, obviously unaware that the duke had a third son. “I might have just the steed.”

He left and came back with an all-black charger named Fury. Thomas fell in love with him at first sight. For its part, the horse wasn’t sure of his new master and decided to bite his arm.

“Behave,” Carl admonished the stallion, then turned to Thomas. “He’s young and still a bit on the wild side. Once he trusts you, he’ll settle down.”

Ragnar barked out a hearty laugh, which had everyone smiling. Warhorses were notoriously ill-tempered.

While the stable master gathered two sets of gear for Fury—one for travel and the other for battle—the duke had a word with Marshal Victor.

Thomas noticed that the two men were eyeing Ragnar. He could tell that the Marshal was filling him in on the mercenaries’ debt to his son.

“Thomas, when you are done here, Marshal Victor will take you to meet the chamberlain. He will provide you with clothes, provisions, and money for your travels. When you’re done, I would like a private word in my chambers,” Duke Charles said and then left.

◊◊◊

When he met his father, Ragnar was required to remain outside the door to give the two of them privacy.

“Before you leave, I wanted you to know how proud I am of the man you have become. I have every faith that you will do us all proud as a member of my uncle’s guard.”

Thomas took a moment to take in what his father had just said. It was the most affection he’d shown since Thomas was little.

“Why did you stop coming to see me?” was asked before Thomas could stop from saying it.

His father gave him a sad smile.

“I made a promise to your mother to keep you safe from everything that goes on around here. When I married Ann, your uncle warned me that she was most likely a Virdenese spy at best. At worse, she would work to produce a Virdenese heir to one day be duke,” Duke Charles explained.

Virden was the kingdom south of the realm of Abingdon. If Virden could control Montrose’s northern duchy, they would present a threat to the rest of the kingdom from two sides.

“You were afraid she would do something to me?” Thomas asked.

His father simply nodded.

“The most I can do is send you to your great-uncle for his protection and give you a stake in life. And the sooner you leave Montrose, the better. The duchess has become aware of you.”

Thomas knew that if she was determined, there wasn’t much his father could do to protect him. The personal letter from his great-uncle now made more sense. Gathering his Nana Millicent and taking her with him would remove any leverage the duchess might have over him.

Then his father’s tone became serious.

“Take the mercenaries with you for protection. On the trip to Inglewood, determine if you can trust them or not. If you can, I would use them as you see fit. Otherwise, tell your great-uncle, and he will deal with them,” he said as he got up and went to his desk.

The duke pulled out a coin purse.

“The Steward was charged with giving you enough coin to reach the Royal Court. This contains your mother’s legacy to you. I was told to give this to you on your rise to manhood. I’ve added enough coin so that if you decide you want to strike off on your own, you can.”

“What about the King?” Thomas asked.

He gave his son a warm smile.

“He’s the one who told me to make the arrangements.”

Thomas was stunned. His father was giving him his freedom, which was unheard of. It would allow him to travel, see the world.

“I’ll think about it,” Thomas said.

“One thing more. There is a delicate matter. It seems Henry has gotten one of the cook’s assistants with child. Jemma is a good girl, but if word gets out about who the father is …”

“You want me to take her with me?” Thomas asked.

“Yes. And help her as much as you can. She is carrying your illegitimate niece or nephew,” Duke Charles said.

The door burst open, and in waltzed a woman who looked to be Thomas’s age.

“Have you dealt with him?” she demanded of his father.

Thomas knew this must be the new duchess.

“Dealt with?” Thomas asked.

“Renounced your right to inherit,” she snapped.

“Why should that be an issue? I’m the third son, after all?” Thomas asked, confused.

“He’s been accepted into the King’s Royal Guard,” his father said to head his new wife off.

“But …” she started and then stopped.

She twirled around and left.

Thomas had a bad feeling his new stepmother didn’t like him. He was suddenly glad that he wasn’t Henry.

◊◊◊

 

Chapter 2

Jemma waited outside the castle with Marshal Victor for Thomas and Ragnar. The marshal introduced her to them and then left, acting embarrassed by the whole situation.

“Is that all your belongings?” Thomas asked as he noted that she only had a small sack with her.

“Yes,” Jemma answered quietly.

“Did you want to stop and say goodbye to your parents before we leave?” Thomas asked.

“My parents are religious.”

Thomas didn’t need to ask more because he saw the sadness in her eyes. Going home would only cause trouble.

“All right, we need to make a stop before we leave,” Thomas said as he led Jemma and Ragnar to the barracks where the mercenaries were being housed.

When they walked in, he noticed that Leif was pacing while the other three looked sullen. Eric and Grim perked up when they saw Jemma. Thomas was disappointed in himself for bringing her into the barracks. It was assumed that a young woman came in there for only one purpose.

“Get your heads out of the privy. She is under Thomas’s protection,” Ragnar said to straighten out the two youngest mercenaries.

Thomas couldn’t really blame them for being interested in Jemma. She was only a year or so older than he was. Being the cook’s assistant meant that she was well fed and had some meat on her bones, giving her curves. Most common girls were rail-thin due to food shortages. Jemma also looked to have bathed recently.

Taking regular baths was something Nana Millicent had insisted Thomas do. She claimed it helped prevent sickness. Thomas had stopped resisting this notion when Roger had explained that if he could smell Thomas coming, then the game in the forest could too.

With Roger’s stamp of approval, Thomas ignored the taunts the village kids made about him being a queer. That, combined with him getting bigger and being trained to fight, made his life easier.

As Thomas got older, he realized it wasn’t just the baths and clean clothes that made him a target. He was the son of a duke, and as such, he never went without, which meant he never knew real hunger. Being well fed also meant that Thomas developed faster than the kids his age. As he became a better hunter, Roger had him take the extra game to the village. That was what finally won the other children over.

“Have you decided what’s to be done with us?” Leif asked, voicing the question that was weighing on his group.

All the mercenaries stared at Thomas. He debated the best course of action. His father’s suggestion finally won out because of how the duchess had acted. Thomas feared that she wouldn’t let his leaving interfere with her plans to someday have her unborn son become the Duke of Montrose.

“I’ve been ordered to the capital to join the King’s Royal Guard. I’m to take Jemma and the woman that raised me to Inglewood. I want you to accompany me for protection. I’ll pay you your normal rate for the trip. If all goes well, we can discuss what’s next once we get there,” Thomas offered.

Everyone but Leif was pleased.

“Do you expect trouble?” Leif asked, showing his experience.

“I hope not,” Thomas said.

“As do I, but we should be on guard,” Ragnar added to sober the other three.

Leif and Ragnar looked at each other, and Thomas saw them communicate something. Then Leif looked at the other mercenaries, and he saw they all looked relieved to hear they weren’t going to rot in the stockade. Leif finally nodded his agreement.

“When do we leave?” Leif asked to get down to business.

“It would be best if we were on our way,” Ragnar suggested.

Thomas nodded, ‘yes.’

◊◊◊

Thomas upgraded the mercenary’s cart to a wagon because they would need the room to move Nana Millicent. Leif had Grim drive the wagon and instructed him to teach Jemma how to do so. Once she was comfortable doing that, it would free up Grim as an extra fighter.

Thomas noted that Grim’s brother, Eric, didn’t look happy when he heard that he wouldn’t ride with Jemma. He was becoming worried that having her along was going to be a problem.

“Settle down,” Thomas warned when Fury tried to bite him again as he mounted his new horse.

He jerked the reins to pull the petulant stallion’s head away from his leg. That caused Fury to dance sideways to try to unseat his new owner.

“Let’s go,” Thomas announced to get them all moving.

He took one last look around his old home and wondered if he would ever set foot inside these gates again.

They bypassed the main road through town since it was full of people here for the festival. Once they cleared the outer walls, Thomas felt himself relax. Fury also settled down as they made their way to the cabin in the woods.

◊◊◊

As they drew close to the cabin, the mercenaries all started when Roger slipped out of the woods in front of them.

“I need your help.”

Thomas smiled when he saw his mentor had brought Thomas’s bow with him.

“I was told to hunt for enough meat to feed this bunch,” Roger explained.

Nana Millicent was known for laying on a fine table, and hearing Roger, Thomas knew she wanted to impress his guests.

“How did …?” Leif began.

“I heard you coming for the last half hour. Nana Millicent is waiting for you at the cabin. Just follow the trail for another quarter mile,” Roger instructed.

“Ragnar, Eric … go with Thomas,” Leif said businesslike while leaving Thomas no room to object.

Roger gave Thomas a look that told him that he would hunt on his own if the mercenaries were going with Thomas. Roger slipped back into the woods, making sure to show Thomas which direction he was going. Thomas knew that the huntsman would go out ahead of them. He would use the noise created when the three went through the woods to drive the game to a clearing up ahead. It would provide him with a clear shot when the time came.

“Where did he go?” Leif asked when Roger pulled his disappearing act.

“He’s hunting,” Thomas said as he got off Fury.

The horse must have been tired because he didn’t try to nip him. Ragnar and Eric both dismounted, and they waited until the rest of them were on their way to the cabin.

“What are we hunting for?” Eric asked.

“Nana Millicent will want something special since we are having guests. Roger will be hoping to find a wild boar.”

“Isn’t boar hunting done on horseback?” Ragnar asked.

“This is not a ‘sport’ to please the aristocrats. This is hunting,” Thomas explained.

The ‘sport’ of hunting was an event that was done to show off to other people of influence. The typical hunting party included the lord of the hunt (often the landowner) and fellow aristocrats, along with other members of various ranks: master huntsman (themselves frequently titled nobles), pages, valets, assistants, huntsmen, and servants.

Hunting boar was considered the pinnacle for these types of hunts because of the danger involved. A wild boar was more than capable of killing or maiming a man, dogs, or even horses. Knowing that worried Ragnar. When you faced a charging boar, being on the ground usually meant you were in serious trouble.

“Don’t worry. Roger will kill the boar while we make noise to nudge the animal towards him,” Thomas explained.

He had Ragnar and Eric both draw their swords, just in case. Thomas warned them to use their swords to stab the beast and not try to slash at it if they were charged. He had them spread out so that Thomas could just see both of them on his flank.

His heart skipped a beat as they entered the woods. Thomas took in his surroundings as he began to hear and see the familiar woods. Staring up at a hawthorn tree, the golden rays of the sun trickled through the branches, dusting everything with a warm glow.

Thomas made sure that both Eric and Ragnar could see him before moving through the woods. The forest went quiet as the three of them tromped deeper into the trees.

Fifteen minutes later, Thomas heard the release of a bowstring, and a split second after that, there was a loud thump and the squeal of a boar. Thomas’s heart when to his throat as he ran toward Roger because the boar wasn’t dead yet. He heard another arrow fire off, and it hit home.

As he sprinted into a clearing, he witnessed the boar finally collapse, and Roger jogged out of the woods with a big smile on his face. Roger had bagged a young male that would be enough for Nana Millicent’s feast and for their coming travels.

Then Thomas felt as if he had suddenly stepped too close to a flame on his left side. He turned to see what caused the feeling and almost pissed himself as a huge wolf leaped towards him. On instinct, Thomas drew and fired his bow a split second before he was bowled over.

He felt the final hot breath of the wolf against his bare neck. He was both terrified and elated to discover his arrow had killed the wolf, but he now found himself trapped under it. Ragnar and Eric reached him first and wrestled the animal off of him.

Thomas got shakily to his feet, knowing that he should be either dead right now or wishing he was. When he’d gathered his wits, Thomas found Roger examining his kill with a worried look. It had a beautiful silver coat and yellow eyes.

“I never thought I would see one of these. There hasn’t been a direwolf seen in over a hundred years. I thought they were extinct,” Roger shared.

“Why the worried face?” Ragnar asked.

“He’s worried that she’s not alone. Direwolves are supposed to be intelligent and travel in packs. This one obviously has a litter of pups,” Thomas said.

“Someone needs to find out,” Roger said to agree with his assessment.

“I’ll see if there are more,” Thomas offered.

“While you do that, I’ll dress out the pig and skin the wolf,” Roger said to divide up the work.

“We’ll go with you,” Ragnar said to Thomas.

“No. Thomas can handle himself in the woods. You two will run off any wolves with all the noise you make,” Roger reasoned.

“Help Roger. I’ll meet you all at the cabin,” Thomas said and left before they could object.

He began to track where the big wolf had come from. If she were like a regular wolf, she might very well have traveled forty or more miles today. While he didn’t plan to cover that much ground, Thomas wanted to make sure there wasn’t a pack roaming the woods close by. If there was, he and Roger would either have to drive them off or kill them. Her attacking him highlighted the potential danger to the nearby village.

Where the wolf had come from was only one mystery. Another was her having pups right before winter. Most animals had their young in the springtime. The only thing he could think was that she’d traveled south to avoid the harsher winters of the north to protect her litter. Then she’d run into men and not understood that she might no longer be the apex predator.

Thomas jogged several miles as he followed the winding path the wolf had taken. He noted some small kills along the way, but nothing substantial. He also didn’t see any signs of other wolves. Thomas was about to give up and head home when he heard a warning growl. He spotted a wolf pup all puffed up, looking tough. He would guess it was about three months old.

He reached into his pouch and found some venison jerky.

“You hungry, little one?” Thomas asked soothingly as he tossed a bite at the pup’s feet.

The pup wasn’t sure what jerky was, but it had a meat smell. After a few tentative sniffs, the jerky was gobbled down. The pup looked up, wanting another piece. That confirmed what Thomas feared. The direwolves hadn’t learned to fear man. That meant he would either have to catch or kill it.

“If you want more, you’ll have to come closer.”

Thomas squatted down and held out more jerky. The pup gave him a look like it wasn’t sure if it trusted Thomas or not. But hunger soon won out as the wolf crept closer and then snatched the jerky out of his fingers. This was repeated two more times before the pup got close enough for Thomas to grab.

He soon had a wiggling ball of fur that was full of needle-sharp teeth. Thomas finally got ahold of the nape of the wolf’s neck and held it away from his body to prevent any further damage. He wondered what was up with animals wanting to bite him today. Thomas usually had a way with them.

He discovered the pup was a little girl. He wrapped her in his cloak to prevent further damage to his person and keep her confined while he traveled.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” Thomas asked as he began to look around.

It seemed the little wolf was all alone, so Thomas decided to travel home.

◊◊◊

On their trip, he’d decided to name the wolf Frost because of her silver-white coat. Once she’d figured out that she couldn’t bite him, Frost had calmed down and fallen asleep. She woke up when they got close to the cabin because she could smell the boar roasting. Thomas had to agree that it smelled good.

As Thomas walked into the yard, Leif pulled him aside.

“I’ve had a word with the huntsman. He said that strangers are staying in the village and have been asking about you.”

“What kind of strangers?” Thomas asked.

“The kind we want to avoid. Is there another way to travel other than the main road?”

Thomas looked at the wagon, which was quickly filling up. Nana Millicent directed the mercenaries as to what she wanted to take with her. While Thomas contemplated the various trails through the woods that might work, Frost squirmed to get her head out of the cloak so she could see.

Leif saw the wolf pup and took an involuntary step back.

“What do you plan to do with that?”

“Keep her. She’s without her mother because of me, and I saw no signs of a pack to take care of her,” Thomas explained.

“But … but that’s a wolf,” Leif stammered out.

“And she bites,” Thomas said, showing the marks on his hand.

Thomas could tell that Leif didn’t think too much of his plan, and normally, Thomas would agree. He just couldn’t bring himself to destroy such a rare find. Thomas had a vague plan to raise her until she could take care of herself. Once he was sure she could survive, he would take her somewhere she could live without the fear of running into men.

It bothered him that he’d been forced to kill Frost’s mother. He was just glad it was him she’d attacked. Anyone else, including the huntsman, would have died. Since Roger had first taken him hunting, Thomas had had a knack for shooting an arrow that would kill an animal with the least amount of suffering.

This last time was a close call. The wolf had sprung a perfect attack. If he’d not been rushing to help Roger and had an arrow nocked, she would have gotten him.

Frost locked eyes with Leif and let out a little warning growl.

“I think she likes you,” Thomas said.

He barely hid his amusement when the seasoned mercenary turned tail and left them standing there.

“Come on, little girl. I bet you’re hungry. I know I am.”

If he hadn’t known better, Thomas would have sworn that she understood him.

◊◊◊

Roger found him a leather strip that Thomas used to tie Frost to a tree. He told everyone not to feed her because he wanted her to learn that he was her food and water source. He also didn’t want her to conclude that just any human was ‘safe.’ Thomas wanted Frost to remain naturally wary of men.

Once he fed her, she’d settled down. He noted that she watched him wherever he went, which Roger said was a good sign.

After everyone had eaten, they all gathered around a fire in the yard to talk.

“Tell me more about the men in the village,” Leif said to Roger.

“Two arrived yesterday morning,” Nana Millicent said. “They looked like seasoned fighters by the scars on their hands, and they were heavily armed. Tara, who works at the tavern, said they had rented all the rooms as they expected more to join them.”

“And they were asking about Thomas?” Leif pressed.

“Yes,” Nana Millicent said. “It won’t take long before someone tells them where we live.”

Roger nodded his agreement.

“Is there another way out of here besides the main road?” Leif asked.

“With the wagon, there is only one other possible way,” Roger said and then turned to Thomas. “You remember the old Rangers’ cabin I showed you on the edge of the Wastelands? The one northwest of here?”

Every few months, Roger would travel along the Wastelands’ edge, the territorial line between the duchy and the Wastelands to the north. It was home to nomadic tribes called the Wildlings. People to the south considered them barbarians.

In the distant past, the Wildlings used to come south and raid the northern villages. During that time, Rangers had built a string of fortified cabins, of which a few still remained. It was one of them that Roger was talking about. He’d taken Thomas along on a couple of his scouting missions over the years, so Thomas knew the one that the huntsman was speaking of.

“The old North Road,” Thomas said, understanding what Roger was saying.

“There used to be a road from that cabin to just south of Rutland. It will add about three or more days to your trip, but it should throw them off your scent,” Roger said.

“And you know how to get there?” Leif asked Thomas.

“He does, but it will give me an excuse to check the border. I’ll go with you,” Roger said.

Thomas was a little irritated when he saw Leif relax at hearing that news. But truth be told, he felt relieved as well. While he’d traveled with Roger, he hadn’t been in the lead.

“Why is Jemma coming with us?” Eric asked.

“My father asked me to take her with me to Inglewood,” Thomas said.

“Is she to be your … uhm …” Grim began.

Thomas could see the two young mercenaries were trying to figure exactly what Jemma meant to Thomas. He looked at Jemma, but she didn’t look like she was going to help him out.

“She carries my brother’s child, and my father asked me to protect her.”

Nana Millicent’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Thomas.

“You and the arseling were lovers?” Eric asked.

Suddenly Jemma burst out laughing. It wasn’t a small little giggle, either; it was a full-on belly laugh.

“Is that what they call rape?” she asked and then burst into tears.

Both Eric and Grim blushed. Thomas noticed that Nana Millicent’s eyes softened. He knew she would now accept Jemma without question.

“Come here.”

Thomas set his mug down and stood up. Jemma got up and walked over to him.

“Turn around.”

Jemma gave him a curious look but did as he asked. Thomas pulled her against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her front and rested his chin on the top of her head. His muscular body pressed against her back. Jemma reached up and placed her hands over his and looked down. She understood that he would protect both her and her unborn child.

The message wasn’t lost on anyone else, either.

“We need to get to bed. Grim and Ragnar, you have the first watch,” Leif ordered.

Nana Millicent led Jemma into the house. When Thomas went to follow, Frost yipped.

“Take that beastie with you,” Leif said as he eyed the wolf.

Thomas untied her from the tree and scooped her up. At least this time, she didn’t try to bite him. He took the furball into the cabin. He waited for a beat until his eyes adjusted to the dimness in the room, then climbed up into the loft where his pallet was. While he got ready for bed, Frost checked everything out. When he lay down, the wolf did the same, pressed up against his legs.

It wasn’t long before they were both asleep.

◊◊◊

During the night, Jemma joined him in his bed. Thomas barely woke. As soon as she was settled, he went back to sleep.

◊◊◊

When morning came, Thomas woke with a start. He found Frost looking up at him with her head on his thigh. Jemma had her back pressed against his chest and had trapped his arm under her head. She must have realized he was awake because she looked back at him and smiled. It was a sexy smile Jemma might give a lover. His dick felt her hips move slightly.

“Traitor,” he mumbled to his uncooperating appendage—the damn thing had a mind of its own, and a one-track one at that.

“What was that?” Jemma asked.

“I was talking to myself. We should get up. We need to leave soon.”

Jemma got up and climbed down the ladder as Thomas willed his swelling to go down.

“I bet you could eat again,” he said to Frost.

She perked up and went to the edge of the loft to look down. Thomas had no doubt she was looking for food.

◊◊◊

Shortly before daybreak, their party was ready to travel. Thomas looked over to Nana Millicent to see how she would react to leaving. She didn’t even look back as the wagon began its trek into the woods. For the last thirteen years, he had called this home.

Thomas had many happy memories of those years, but he was looking forward to going to the capital.

◊◊◊

 

Chapter 3

Unlike this morning, when Thomas first began to travel, the sun was now gone, and it was gloomy out. Gray, fat-bellied clouds pressed down from the sky, and it looked like it was going to rain. That had him of two minds. The rain would make it harder to track them, but it could cause problems with the wagon if it became too wet.

As they entered a clearing, lightning danced in a spider-web design along the leading edge of a wall of ominous clouds pushing toward them. A short time later, thunder announced the storm’s approach.

Everyone looked pensive, knowing they were about to be caught outside in this weather, when Roger came riding up behind them in a rush. As a precaution, he’d been tasked to watch to see if the men looking for Thomas found his former home.

“Twenty men came to the cabin. When they couldn’t find Thomas, they set fire to it,” Roger shared.

“Do we hide, run, or fight?” Ragnar asked.

“While I waited, I created a couple of false trails to confuse them. They’ve followed one south, but I noted they have a tracker with them. It won’t take him long to figure out which way we really have gone. If we can make it to the cabin, we can hold them off,” Roger said.

“Won’t they just burn us out?” Leif asked.

“It’s not a standard cabin. It’s more of an outpost or small fort made of stone. There’s an enclosed courtyard big enough to hold the wagon and our horses,” Thomas explained.

“Then let’s hurry. I don’t want to be out in this any longer than I have to,” Leif decided.

“I’ll slow them down while you make good your escape,” Roger offered.

“No. I’m the better shot. You lead them to safety,” Thomas said.

“Our whole purpose is to keep you safe. I won’t allow it,” Leif said.

“Thomas has grown up in the woods. Trust him to handle himself,” Roger said.

“We’re wasting time,” Nana Millicent chimed in to remind everyone what was at stake.

“Don’t mess around. I’ve never lost someone I was hired to protect, and I don’t want you to be the first,” Leif said before they moved out.

◊◊◊

Thomas set up at an angle from the path their horses and wagon had made across the open ground. He’d had to hobble Fury because the coming storm had the big warhorse agitated. So far, it had stalled, but the wind was picking up.

Thomas had hunkered down with his back to a large oak tree. He made a guess as to where the men following them would come out of the woods. It was a good fifty yards from where he was hiding. While a bow could shoot three or more times further than that, most archers were only accurate for ten to thirty-five yards.

Thomas had made longer shots, but those had been under ideal conditions. With the wind whipping up, he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to hit anything. Thomas figured the best he could do would be to grab their attention and then take them on a merry chase. It would take a hell of a horse to catch Fury over a long distance, so he was confident he could keep out of their clutches.

A sudden flare of heat rushed through him, sending Thomas’s heart racing. Whatever had warned him, he didn’t take the time to doubt it. Somehow, he knew that the tracker was to the left of where they’d entered the clearing. That marked him as a cautious man.

Thomas let an arrow fly.

His original plan was to get them out and into the open within a reasonable range before shooting. But in the heat of the moment, he’d let loose his shaft. Thomas watched as the arrow flew wide of the target. He nocked another arrow and prepared to shoot again. Then a wind gust pushed the arrow back onto target, just as it entered the forest.

There was a surprised cry. A second later, a man fell into the clearing with the arrow sticking out of his right eye. Thomas felt bile rise up in the back of his throat as he took in the horror of killing a man. This being his first, Thomas got shakily to his feet and made his way to Fury. He reasoned that it would take them longer to follow their trail to the outpost without their tracker, so he didn’t need to stay.

The real reason was he knew he was too shaken to do much more at the moment. Thomas had to come to grips with what he’d done. With that thought in mind, he raced to catch up with his band. As he got onto his horse, Thomas could already hear excited calls that told him that they’d discovered the tracker’s body.

◊◊◊

Thomas rode hard, allowing Fury his head. The warhorse was a marvel. His father had done well by him. He was able to catch up with his group before they entered the outpost. He noted the mercenaries had fanned out behind the wagon when they heard him ride up.

“Are they behind you?” Leif called out when Thomas got close.

“We have some time. I killed their tracker, but it won’t be hard for them to follow the wagon’s trail.”

Thomas was glad no one asked for details.

Roger slipped around the side and entered through a secret entrance to open the front gate. Once everyone was inside, Grim took charge of the horses.

Thomas had put Frost into a cage he’d made to raise rabbits when he was younger. Roger had had him do it so Thomas could learn responsibility. He was heartbroken when he thought his bunnies had escaped. Roger never said anything, but they did have rabbit stew for the next week.

Thomas had refused to raise any more pets after that. When he was older, he suspected that Nana Millicent had a hand in that. She’d voiced on more than one occasion her desire to not have pets in their cabin.

Frost was a bundle of energy when she was set free and she followed Thomas into the cabin. There was a musty, unused odor about the place, and footprints were settled in the dust on the wooden planked floor. Thomas held everyone out and let Frost investigate. He pointed to the prints, and Roger nodded his agreement with Thomas’s plan.

The wolf checked every room and then suddenly ran to a corner where there was a squeak of surprise. She’d found herself a mouse. From there, the hunt was on. With Frost entertained, everyone unloaded what they would need for the night.

◊◊◊

They all were tired, but Leif kept the mercenaries busy as they tended to their defenses. Frost had given up her mouse hunt when Nana Millicent and Jemma started to cook dinner. That gave Roger a chance to talk to Thomas alone.

“I’m surprised that Frost has adjusted so well. She’s a smart pup,” Roger said.

“Why do you think her mother brought her south?” Thomas asked.

“I honestly don’t know. Direwolves used to roam over much of this land, but I thought men had hunted them into extinction. With her mother’s and her coloring, I would guess they came from the mountains to the north.”

“Who do you think caused the footprints?” Thomas asked.

“Who would you guess? What did you notice?” Roger asked to fall into his role as Thomas’s mentor.

“They’re fairly recent. I would guess sometime in the last month. If pressed, I don’t think it was another Ranger.”

“Why’s that?”

Thomas saw the glint of approval in Roger’s eyes. That little tell told him he was on the right track.

“Rangers wear boots with soles. Whoever made those prints was wearing soft-soled shoes. I suspect that it was made by a Wildling.”

Roger nodded.

“I’ve been watching the border for over twenty years. I’ve never known anyone from the Wildings to enter an outpost. The times I do meet them, it is always in the open,” Roger explained.

Thomas had never been lucky enough to meet any Wildlings when he traveled with Roger. When he was growing up, the village children had shared tales about them taking children that wandered off. The Wildlings were supposed to be a savage people. He suspected that the children were told stories to scare them straight.

When Thomas asked Roger about them, all he would say was that they were a proud people.

“Why do you think they came inside?” Thomas asked.

“That’s another mystery that I don’t know the answer to.”

“What are we going to do about the men following me?”

Roger got a troubled look.

“We need to find out who sent them. Nana Millicent thinks it is probably the duchess, but it could also be Henry. More of your ancestors than I can count stole an inheritance by patricide. Some say King Edward killed his brother, your grandfather.”

Nana Millicent had taught Thomas his lineage. By all rights, Thomas’s grandfather, Prince Raymond, should have taken the throne when the time came because he was the heir. That meant that Thomas’s father should be the rightful king, but the council decided against having a child as king. Duke Charles had only been to the capital once, to swear his allegiance to his uncle at his majority.

Nana Millicent was surprised when Duke Charles allowed Philip to travel to Inglewood, from which King Edward ruled, to join the church. It marked a softening in feelings between his great uncle and his father. Thomas had fully expected that he would either be married off or possibly sent to Pekin, where his mother had grown up, to serve in their army. Being invited to join the King’s Royal Guard was an unexpected honor.

“If I survive and it’s my brother who did this, he’ll be telling himself that it seemed like a good idea at the time,” Thomas predicted.

“That’s where all bad ideas start, don’t they?” Roger asked.

“And end the same way too.”

The smell of smoke mingled with the overlay of roast pig and boiled vegetables reached them. Frost crept close until she was sure that Thomas saw her. He used his chin to point at the pup.

“Someone thinks our supper is ready.”

“I’ll get the rest of them. You better go feed that one before Frost forgets her manners,” Roger suggested good-naturedly.

◊◊◊

Thomas woke in the middle of the night and felt like he would burn from the inside out. This was the third time something like this had happened. The previous two occurrences warned him of danger, so he silently got up, strapped his broadsword to his back, and grabbed his bow.

When he got outside, he found Gabe wrapped in his cape, sleeping on guard duty. Thomas kicked him, none too gently, to wake him up. Thomas put his finger to his lips to make sure Gabe kept quiet.

Thomas closed his eyes and knew that the men following them were just at the edge of the clearing. Their leader prepared them to make a night raid and pointed to where he wanted his men to go. Thomas raised his bow and let an arrow fly. It arced high in the air before landing inches from the leader’s boots.

“The next one kills someone!” Thomas called out.

“Send out Thomas Mycroft, and we’ll be on our way!”

Thomas sensed one of the men had begun to slowly run towards the outpost. He sent another arrow flying, and it crashed to earth, piercing the man through the neck.

“I suggest you sleep on your demand. At least in daylight, you might be able to see the arrows coming,” Thomas yelled.

Thomas held his breath and waited. If they all charged, they would be to the wall before he could drop more than just a couple of them. A lone archer would be no match against nearly twenty men. He released his breath when he felt them turn and leave.

Thomas turned to go back in and found Frost behind him.

“Where are you going?” Gabe asked with a touch of panic in his voice.

“To bed. They’ve left,” Thomas said.

Frost beat him back to his pallet. He had to shove the bed hog over so he could crawl in.

◊◊◊

It was still before dawn when Roger touched Thomas’s shoulder to wake him. Thomas saw that everyone was slowly awakening to face what was to come today. He noted that everyone kept quiet as they dressed.

They all gathered at the table where Nana Millicent had put out cheese, cold pork, and the last of their bread to break their fast.

“What happened last night?” Leif asked.

Thomas looked at Gabe, but he looked down, leaving it to Thomas to explain.

“Before we talk about that, I have to tell you what has been going on with me. It started with the wolf. Right before she attacked, I felt a flash of heat, like I’d gotten too close to a hearth fire. If I hadn’t felt it, I would never have turned in time to defend myself.

“Then it happened again yesterday when I killed the tracker. I felt it in front of me this time, and I somehow knew where he was, even though he was hidden. I’ve always had a knack for using a bow while hunting. If I don’t think about what I’m doing and just shoot, my arrows fly true to take down my quarry.

“I did the same in the clearing, but I could see that I’d shot the arrow wide of the mark. Then a gust of wind pushed the arrow back on target.

“I didn’t really think much of it at the time because I’d just killed a man. But after last night, I have to admit something is different about me,” Thomas said.

“What exactly happened?” Roger asked.

“I was awakened to the same burning feeling. It felt like I was on fire inside. When I got outside, I knew the men tracking us were massing to attack the outpost. I could see their leader in my mind’s eye, preparing them for their assault. I shot an arrow to get his attention.”

“They said they were here for Thomas. He told them to stop what they planned, or he would kill them. Then he did kill one of them. He was standing in the middle of the courtyard, it was dark, and there was a wall between them,” Gabe said in a rush to explain his all but impossible shot.

“Is that true?” Leif asked.

Thomas nodded his agreement.

“Your namesake was said to have a touch of magic in him, and it might be what is going on with you. But we have to figure out what to do about the men outside. I don’t think they plan to wait us out,” Roger said.

“We’re outnumbered three or four to one. When they breach the wall, they will easily overpower us. Our best chance is to take the fight to them in the open. Thomas and Roger can support us with their bows,” Leif said to set the day’s strategy.

“That would be suicide,” Nana Millicent gasped.

“We’ve been fighting as a unit for a long time. While I have no doubt each one of the men out there can handle a sword, we will prevail,” Ragnar said with grim determination.

“I could give myself up,” Thomas offered.

“That you won’t do. You hired us for a job, and we will see it through,” Leif said as all the mercenaries nodded their agreement.

Nothing else was said while the mercenaries quietly prepared. Thomas found his gear for battle and got dressed. There was no mistaking him for anyone less than a duke’s son. His father had spared no expense.

When he came into the courtyard, he found that Roger had prepared Fury. The warhorse’s head came up when Thomas got close, as if he knew what was coming.

“If things go badly, I thought you might want him ready,” Roger said.

“Thank you,” Thomas said and then grabbed his stomach. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Thomas was more embarrassed than anything else by his stomach revolting on him.

“Don’t worry, son. It’s just battle nerves,” Leif assured him.

He glanced around, and all the men were smiling. A surge of energy cracked through him like lightning.

“They’re coming,” Thomas announced.

Roger grabbed his bow and climbed the ladder to the battlement, where he could shoot his arrows. Thomas opened the front gate to let the mercenaries ride out and then closed them. He rushed up the ladder so he could see what was going on.

He was in time to see Leif lead his men in a charge into the center of their adversary’s line. Both he and Roger let fly arrows that would arrive right before their men. At the last moment, the mercenaries veered off in what appeared to be a well-practiced move. They raked the enemy line with their swords as they went by. The maneuver didn’t do any real damage, but enough to unnerve the ranks as they broke formation and gave chase to the now retreating mercenaries.

Roger and Thomas began to rain down arrows onto their pursuers. Thomas shot the lead horse, which tumbled down, taking its rider with it. The falling animal felled two other horses. The mercenaries wheeled back to take advantage of the chaos.

Thomas cringed when he saw the rest of their foes charge into the battle. The air was filled with the clash of metal, battle cries, and the screams of horses. Thomas could see that it wouldn’t be long before his men were routed. He slid down the ladder and mounted Fury. Nana Millicent and Jemma were at the gate and opened it as he charged out.

Thomas drew his broadsword and charged into the thick of it. Fury bowled over a horse as Thomas swung his sword at the back of another rider between him and Eric. He was startled when the blade lopped the man’s head off like a hot knife cutting through butter.

Thomas was able to get to Eric’s side in time to see both Gabe and Ragnar get unhorsed. He momentarily felt fear take hold, but when he saw Leif take a nasty cut on his left arm, Thomas refocused. He noted that he didn’t see Grim.

Fury lived up to his name as he kicked and lashed out at the horses around him. Thomas felt an ax cut into his thigh. He was able to swing his sword and lop the man’s hand off. In just a few short minutes, bodies were falling all around Thomas as his broadsword did its work. But he knew that he only had a short time to live as they were too outnumbered.

He heard a weird sound start, like when you whipped a branch through the air, but it went on longer. Then there was a snapping sound, and Thomas was startled when men all around him simply dropped out of their saddles.

Thomas heard the noise again, followed by the snap as even more men were unhorsed. That was when he heard a war cry, and savages dressed in furs charged on foot with long spears. They used the spears to take down the horses, and then they would club the unhorsed men.

A group of the men sent to kill Thomas broke off and made a run for it. That was when he heard the noise again. He saw that their saviors had slings. They twirled a length of hide over their heads, and the snapping sound occurred when the stones were released.

They were deadly accurate with the slings. To a man, none of their foes escaped the field of battle.

When the fighting ended, only Eric and Thomas were still on their horses. It was a miracle when they found that Leif, Grim, and Ragnar were all still alive. Gabe wasn’t so lucky as his horse had fallen on him.

The gates flew open, and Jemma and Nana Millicent flew out to check on Thomas, followed by Frost. Roger walked out and met the leader of the band of warriors that had saved them.

Thomas was prepared to tell them to help the others when he became light-headed and began to slide from his horse. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

◊◊◊

Thomas woke with a start. Groggy, he was utterly unable to comprehend why he was lying in a huge pile of furs. When he tried to move, pain shot through him, causing him to suck in his breath and hold it until the worst of it went away. Thomas looked down and saw that he was nude with a cloth to cover his manhood. He had bandages wrapped around various places, and they were stained with his blood. The one that hurt the most was his thigh, where he’d received the ax wound.

Sunlight danced in through an open door. Thomas groaned and rolled to his side. His back and neck gave a loud crack of protest at being moved. He could barely keep his eyes open. Everything felt fuzzy, and his hearing was muffled.

He could barely hear Nana Millicent talking to someone, but his mind wasn’t functioning well enough to make out what she said. In the background, Thomas listened to the sound of people laughing and vaguely smelled bread baking.

Then he heard another woman’s voice as she talked to Nana Millicent. Something about her tone brought him back to fuller consciousness, and he managed to concentrate. He jerked when he felt Frost’s nose nudge him.

“Look, Boots says he’s awake.”

He opened his eyes again and saw a vision. It was a young woman—a girl, actually—dressed like the group of men that had saved them.

“Boots?” Thomas asked.

“I was just saying that for saving your life, you should give me your wolf so I could make boots out of her.”

Ignoring her suggestion, Thomas asked, “Who are you?”

“Maeve, daughter of Lorcan, and our clan’s healer.”

“Clan?”

“Wildlings. She stitched you up,” Nana Millicent said.

“Stitched?”

“He’s just full of questions,” Maeve observed.

“Instead of just wrapping your wounds, she stitched them closed,” Nana Millicent said.

Thomas had never heard of such a thing.

“You’ll heal better and faster,” Maeve assured him.

“Where are my clothes, and why am I naked?” Thomas asked.

“What? Are you worried everyone will see your naughty bits?” Maeve teased and then turned to Nana Millicent. “Jemma did seem to take a keen interest.”

Thomas’s stomach grumbled its need for food.

“Why don’t you bring him something to eat? You’d better bring something for Boots, too, because he has this notion that only he can feed her,” Nana Millicent said to Maeve.

Once the girl left, Thomas asked, “Wildlings?”

“It’s a long story, but I’m grateful they came to our aid. If the Wildlings hadn’t, you would have not only been taken by those men but after the battle would have surely died without Maeve’s aid.”

“But I’m naked,” Thomas pressed.

Nana Millicent chuckled at his discomfort.

“She had to wash you before she would stitch you up. Maeve wouldn’t allow us to put clothes on you because she said they might be dirty and cause your wounds to fester. She did much the same to everyone else.”

Thomas had an amusing vision of the mercenaries running around naked. He imagined how scandalized Jemma must be.

“How are they?” Thomas asked.

“All but Gabe are fine.”

Maeve came back with two bowls of stew.

“Eat,” Maeve ordered.

Thomas set a bowl on the floor for Frost and then did as he was told. Energy slowly returned to his body. He still felt tired, but it was a lighter feeling, as though the weight had been temporarily set aside. Maeve handed him another bowl.

“Drink.”

Thomas brought it to his mouth but stopped when he felt a faint warning heat touch his face.

“It will help you sleep and get better,” Maeve said when she saw him hesitate.

Thomas drank the contents. Once Frost’s belly was full, she curled up at his side and began to emit a cute little wolf snore. With her retreat into unconsciousness, his own surrender was nearly immediate. Thomas had barely leaned back into the pile of furs when his eyes slid shut, and the world disappeared.

◊◊◊

 

Chapter 4

The first rosy hint of dawn had begun to light the eastern horizon. After only ten days, Maeve had declared Thomas fit to ride. His wounds had healed remarkably quickly, and she’d removed the stitches last night. While he still had a limp, Thomas felt he could sit a horse. Everyone was eager to head to the capital, so it was decided to set out at first light.

The Wildlings had been a pleasant surprise. They were far from the barbarians that Thomas had heard tales about while growing up. They were a nomadic clan that lived off the land and normally avoided ‘lowlanders,’ as they called all those who lived south of them..

Once the caution of getting to know each other faded, they were very forthcoming. Thomas was well versed in reading signs in speech and body that gave him clues to their state of mind. It had been part of his education when he worked at the local pub. There was something that drove the Wildlings to come to their aid that they held back at first.

Before they revealed their reason, the two groups spent time learning from each other. Roger discussed Ranger-related stuff like tracking and hunting. The mercenaries were fascinated with the slings the Wildlings used. They were of a mind that such a weapon was only a step above throwing rocks. In their estimation, a sling would only stun a man at best. Seeing the men fall from their horses changed their minds.

The Wildlings showed them their secret. They used smooth stones found by riverbeds as ammunition. The smaller stones were used for small game, while they had larger rocks that they used to take down large prey like wild boar and deer.

In return for the knowledge, the mercenaries taught them the basics of using swords. Part of the spoils of war had been the weapons the men tracking Thomas had. The Wildlings had no use for the horses and their gear or any coins. They did accept the clothing and boots the men had worn.

Unfortunately, none of the men had survived, and there was no clue as to who had sent them. The man that led them did have a pouch of coins that Leif assumed was payment for killing Thomas. He gave the money to Thomas to square their debt to him.

Roger took Thomas aside and told him that he could claim the spoils of war because he’d hired the mercenaries. He also noted that the mercenaries had claimed horses to replace their lost mounts. On top of that, Thomas had also left the outpost’s protection and helped defend the mercenaries.

Thomas had no doubt that was the tradition and one of the reasons people hated people like his brothers and father. He decided that with the debt payment, combined with the money and gems his father had given him from his mother, he had enough funds to support himself and Nana Millicent. He would rather have the mercenary’s goodwill than be greedy, so he accepted Leif’s offer.

That was a preview of The Third Son. To read the rest purchase the book.

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