Dark Lord of Kismera: Knights of Kismera (4 page)

Two more men greeted the elves when they passed through the large inner gates into the inner bailey, the castle rose in front of them and Drace craned his neck to look up at the red-gold stone fortress. The main body of the castle was four floors with a large, tall, square tower at each corner that raised two more floors above it. Walkways lined the top edge of the walls with stairs leading from them to the top of the towers, giving sentries outside access to the tower roofs. Men were barely visible atop the two front towers.

Heavy wooden doors, tall enough to grant access to a man on horseback, marked the main entrance, probably into a main hall. Large open windows flanked the door, wooden shutters of heavy oak ready to be closed for either weather or defense.

Moving along slowly, following Vashti and Ka’Ril, Drace saw along the inner bailey wall was two barracks, large enough to hold a considerable number of men who moved around each structure as they went about their tasks.

There were other smaller buildings nestled along the wall: a wood shed, a smithy, a smoke house, a laundry. Drace did not know the use of a couple of rooms. Close to the barracks was an armory, or weapons room, judging from the weapons and shields propped against the building’s exterior wall.

Hunger inducing smells came from a large building against the wall of the castle, causing Drace to guess correctly that it was the kitchen. His belly agreed with a rumble of hunger. A large tree shaded the kitchen’s outer entrance.

The people here appeared well fed and healthy so he thought he probably wasn’t in danger of starvation. But if he had any more meals of bread and cheese without at least a taste of meat to go with it, he just might cry.

To his dismay, they turned away from the kitchen and rode past a smaller stable to a large open area. Counting quickly, Drace saw twenty men practicing with various weapons, and several horses were being exercised at the near end. Pride’s tired walk suddenly became an excited prance, and he neighed a greeting. The exercise riders pulled up their mounts and stared with curiosity and respect, letting the trio pass. Vashti and Ka’Ril seemed intent on two people at the far corner of the training area who were engaged in a mock fight.

Both wore leather sleeveless shirts that came to their waist and matching leather breeches. Calf-high soft leather boots completed each outfit. The weapons were blunt edge swords and wooden unpainted shields. Neither participant was wearing much armor, just leather shin and lower arm guards.

Drace noticed that one fighter had dark auburn hair and was of medium build. Despite being heavily muscled and appearing to be a good fighter, he was taking a pounding from his opponent.

Drace couldn’t help but stare at the other fighter…a woman…who handled a large sword better than anyone he had ever seen. She was taller than her opponent, probably five-ten, with long tawny-blond hair in a thick braid that hung to just past her hips. She was muscular, but slender in an athletic way. Her skin was tanned golden.

After several deft moves, the man she scrimmaged hit the dirt. In an accented, velvety voice she explained something Drace couldn’t quite make out to the fallen opponent. He took her offered left hand and was helped to his feet. They repeated the last set of moves and he countered her last blow slightly different. This time he maintained his footing and made a vicious jab at her midsection. Drace gasped involuntarily as the move seemed to have deadly intent. The woman moved nimbly to the side, and backed off, lowering her sword. The woman said something to the other warrior that Drace assumed were words of praise. The man nodded to her with a slight bow. With a motion of dismissal from the woman, the man left the field, heading for the barracks.

When the woman turned to the waiting trio, Drace saw her face for the first time. “Hey, it’s her!” He put a hand on Vashti’s arm. “That’s the woman from my dream.”

The woman had the most intriguing face he had ever seen. When she came closer he could see her eyes. They were bold, slightly slanted, cat-like, and a light amber color, framed by dark blonde lashes. Her face was angular but not sharply so, with a straight nose perhaps just a touch too short. Her lips were full and at the moment curled in a disdainful smile. An image of a lioness came instantly to his mind.

A henna-like tattoo of a winged dragon rising into flight was on the bicep of her right arm, and even from a distance, he could see the incredible workmanship.

She stopped in front of Vashti. “Sorceress, I hope all is well?”

Vashti and Ka’Ril both dipped their heads in greeting. “Very well, my Lady,” Vashti replied.

The woman stuck the point of the long sword into the ground and leaned on it a bit in a nonchalant manner. “How were the plains today?”

“Very quiet my Lady. We saw not even a hare,” Ka’Ril volunteered.

“Nimbus flew today and passed over. I believe he hunted,” the woman said and turned her attention to Drace. “Is this the poor creature you were sent for? It looks like a Zakara used a mace on him.”

Drace stiffened in the saddle, causing Pride to move restlessly. “It wasn’t a mace, it was a lance,” he answered in a tight voice, “I am Drace MacKinnon, ma’am.”

“Oron told me you would arrive today. We have rooms and baths ready for you. Estelle will show you to your quarters. I will join you at the evening meal.”

She turned away without another word to the three, and then shouted across to another man waiting on the side. She gave her sword a couple of swings over her head to loosen her arm muscles and went into the next match, clearly dismissing them. Drace felt somewhat insulted, but said nothing.

The three left their horses with three men at the inner stable. Drace was nervous about leaving Pride with strangers, but Vashti reassured him the stallion would receive excellent care. Pride seemed tired enough not to be bothered by it all, being led willingly away from Drace in the stable’s direction.

Vashti directed Drace in through the side entrance into the huge kitchen area where the smells of cooking meat permeated the air. A plump, older woman greeted them. She had graying hair, which was once jet-black, and merry gray eyes. Drace immediately thought she would make a perfect grandmother for anyone. She went into mother-hen mode at their arrival, tsking and fussing. She clucked to two young women to have the hot water added to the trio’s baths.

Estelle grabbed Drace’s chin, a considerable stretch as she was not very tall, and a bit round. She turned his head right then left. “Hmmm.” She let go then lightly touched his nose making him wince. “I will have something brought up for that, right away.”

She turned and clapped at the two women. “Hurry now with the water,” she said. She turned to Vashti and the two men. “I’ll show you to your chambers. Follow me, please.” She left in a whirl of brown skirts and the dynamo bustled from the kitchen; Drace, Vashti and Ka’Ril trailing in her wake.

Drace tried to see everything in the great hall as they passed while still keeping up with her. He caught glimpses of tapestries and weapons hanging along the wall. A large fireplace was at one end and a raised platform stood in front with a long table on it. Tables on the floor ran down the sides of the hall, leaving the center opened. He had expected rushes on the floor, like he had read about, but it was clean swept flagstones. A pair of dogs, which looked very similar to Salukis, an ancient breed originally used to hunt gazelles, lay next to a small child. The little boy sat on a blanket, his mother close by sweeping the floor. The dogs, one fawn in color, the other black, raised their heads but did not leave the child’s side as Estelle hurried her charges on through to stairs in one corner of the great hall. They went up two levels in the front tower. She paused at a door. “Your usual chambers, my dears; please make yourselves comfortable. Your hot water will be here momentarily,” she said to Vashti and Ka’Ril.

“Come sir, after me.” Again there was the whirl of skirts as she turned and resumed her climb. Despite her slightly plump physique, she was not at all out of breath. Drace could not help but smile at her perkiness. They climbed one more level and stopped before the next door. “This is your chamber, my Lord.”

She pushed through the door. “Well, come in now,” she coaxed as he hesitated in the doorway. “Let me help you with your armor. I used to help my man with his years ago. I believe I remember how to get this undone.” She began unbuckling straps before Drace could protest. She flitted around him like a bird, here, there, and soon he was standing in his linen. “You have no gear, my Lord?”

“No ma’am, I don’t,” Drace replied, his deep voice reflecting his embarrassment. “Only what I’m wearing.”

“Well now. I believe I can find something else for you to wear. You are very big though.” She tapped her lips thoughtfully. “I will have to search a little. I will find you something before you finish your bath.”

She handed him a bar of roughly shaped soap and a cloth. While she bustled around, Drace took in his room. There was a fireplace, a large metal tub by it, and two windows with a writing desk between them. Along one wall was a movable screen. Drace presumed some sort of bathroom facility was behind it. Several large tapestries adorned the walls. There was an armoire and a large bed. Drace eyed the bed longingly; every bone in his body hurt, and he was beyond tired.

A curly red-haired servant girl entered the room with two buckets of steaming water followed by an exact replica with two more. The twins poured two of the buckets into the waiting tub half-full of cool water. They lingered, giving Drace hopeful looks.

“Shoo, shoo.” Estelle waved them out. Both girls hurried out, giggling.

“Common little trollops, I swear.” She flitted around the room, gathering a towel and fussing some more. She reminded him of a bumblebee on a hot day. Drace turned away to hide his smile and chuckle. He was starting to like Estelle.

She came over and grabbed the hem of his shirt and started up with it.

Drace captured her hands and gently pushed them down. “Whoa there lady; I can get this by myself.”

She stepped back, looking up quizzically. “A big lad like you could not be shy.”

“No ma’am, but I’m twenty-seven years old. I‘ve been doing it myself for some time.” He drew the line at being completely undressed by a stranger and apparently it showed in his expression.

“Well, you do it then and into the bath with you. I can at least help you with washing your hair. Off with the clothes now, do not be shy,” she demanded.

Drace flushed, but did as she said. Before he slid into the tub she made him stop with a brush of her hand on his forearm. She eyed a large bruise on his ribs and another on his hip. “A bit of a fall, eh, or did someone hand it to you?” Estelle asked, frowning.

“A fall, ma’am. I don’t remember all of it, just the down part. I woke up in a different place.”

“You showed up here with Vashti so I already guessed there was magic involved. Do not fret, my boy. They will watch over you; now, into the bath.”

He slid gratefully into the large tub. He had to sit with his knees slightly bent but he wasn’t too cramped. He laid his head against the high back. Facing the door, he saw the first girl come back in the room. She carried a basin with a strong-smelling liquid in it and a cloth. She lingered beside him, gazing unscrupulously at his naked form. He grew uncomfortable beneath her scrutiny even while his body started a response at the bold look she gave him while toying with the laces of her bodice.

“Give me that, girl! Let the man have his bath in peace!” Estelle scolded, putting the basin on a table. “Do you have the bottle?”

The girl produced a small green bottle from an apron pocket and even with Estelle chiding her, seemed in no hurry to go.

“Out with you, girl!” Estelle snapped and grabbed the girl’s arm and spun her from the tub. “Leave him be. He is in no condition for the likes of you. Out!”

The girl turned her head and shot Estelle a dirty look, but complied, and left.

Estelle poured the bottle of liquid into the bath, commenting dryly, “Well lad, maybe you are in fine fettle after all. If I were younger I might like a ride on that myself.” She laughed heartily as Drace blushed to the roots of his hair. “Ahh, be at peace boy, you are safe with me.”

“What
is
this stuff?” Drace asked taking the bottle from her and sniffing it. It had the smell of fresh grass and something astringent, but it wasn’t very strong.

Estelle took the bottle back from him and set it on a table. “That will help your muscle soreness. Lay back lad. This is for your face.” She took the cloth and dipped it in the basin then laid the cloth over his eyes and nose. Each time the cloth cooled she reapplied it. She removed it after a few minutes. “Soak for a little bit while I find some clothes for you. When I come back I will shave you and brush the nests out of your hair.”

Forty-five minutes later he stood with only a towel wrapped around his lean hips, hair freshly washed and combed, face shaved, feeling almost human again.

Estelle handed him a pair of linen under-drawers and then a pair of soft doeskin breeches. She handed him a sleeveless tunic of black cloth. It had gold embroidery along the hem, was open at the throat and the hem hung past his hips with a slash on each side for ease of movement. He dressed and marveled as everything fit as if specially made for him, down to the thin stockings he wore with his own riding boots.

Estelle stood back admiring her work. “Excellent, my Lord. You clean up well.”