CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

Riana walked briskly down the wide central hallway of Alton manor to Lady Suzannah's bedchamber with her long purple robe dragging after her as she took each quick, springy step. She was going to deliver a letter from Finn which had been brought to the manor a while ago by a courier.

A few metres away from the room, Riana began to hear low, sensual sounds of her lady and someone laughing and necking. The maid smiled knowingly, she could bet her left bosom - that's the bigger one - that that someone was Sir Millicent.

She rapped twice on the hard wooded door of Lady Suzannah's chamber. There was silence for a moment, then came a reply, in a loud and clearly irritated, feminine voice.

"What is it Riana?"

She wasn't surprised that her name was called. She was the only maid with enough liberties to come this far. "My lady, I bear a sealed letter from Mister Finn."

"Slip it under the door. I'll pick it."

"Yes my lady," Raina did as her lady bade her and promptly took her leave.

On the other side of the door, Lady Suzannah got off her bed and gracefully walked over to where the letter lay to pick it. Sir Millicent watched in lustful admiration as the elegant lady bent over to pick the sealed note. Her impossible combination of a beautiful face and a divinely shaped body made the quadragenerian, at least in Sir Millicent's sight, the most alluring woman in the city. He knew

"What does it say?" He asked, forcing his eyes off her bosoms.

Lady Suzannah read on for a few more moments before answering, "The expected. He has taken care of Bradeigh. Oh, and he sustained an injury in the course of the mission. He is at Carlen's place for treatment."

"Did he say how bad the injury is?"

"No," She replied as she dropped the letter on a nearby stool and returned to bed. "But it can't be very bad if he was fine enough to hold a quill. This letter was written in his hand."

"True."

"Don't you think it will be great if we eliminate him as well?"

Sir Millicent felt his brows suddenly go up on their own accord. "Why?"

"I just feel the lesser the people who know what has gone under, the better," The lady said with a shrug.

"I don't buy the idea," Sir Millicent objected. "We can't kill him. I have an agreement with his people. Besides, he has proven to be extremely loyal and quite handy."

"You win then," Lady Suzannah conceded. "Yes, I was going to say something serious before the girl came around."

"Is it about Marcus?" Sir Millicent queried. "That's something you have taken very serious in recent times."

"No. Not him. I've taken him out of the picture. We . . ."

"Wait, you mean he's dead."

"No, but he won't be giving us sleepless nights anymore."

"Wow. How did you do that?"

Lady Suzannah smiled expansively, "That's my little secret. Now, I was saying we need to talk about us.."

"Us? You are not pregnant. Are you?"

"No, I'm not. I told you not to worry about that. I was meaning for us to talk about our relationship. I mean, do we really mean something to each other or this is still no more than a fling?"

"Well, I'll say it's an emotional fling, you know, the kind where you get to . . . "

"Come on Mills, be serious."

"Hey, what gave you the impression that I'm joking?" Sir Millicent asked with playful seriousness.

"You heartless bastard," Lady Suzannah said smiling, as she swung a playful punch at his head.

He easily ducked the blow and then replied by pushing her so that she fell on her back onto the bed.

"You could have hit me," He whispered coarsely as he moved to pin her down with his body.

"Oh, I almost forgot. I have to go somewhere," Lady Suzannah said suddenly, pushing Sir Millicent off gently.

"Now?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"I have to meet Lord Harleim at the granary," Lady Suzannah replied as she got off the bed and straighened her robe.

"Lord Harleim again? Why, I have to say you two are getting too close for my liking."

Lady Suzannah chuckled goodnaturedly, "Don't be jealous Mills. All I'm doing is for our good."

Before Sir Millicent could object any further, Lady Suzannah blew him a hasty kiss and bounded out of the room.

* * *

The first thing Prince Galleine saw when his eyes flicked open was image of the Casvillean flag imprinted on the canopy hanging over his bed. The white lion in the flag was silently snarling at him, or so it appeared. Of course, it was his mind playing tricks.

"My lord. . ."

Prince Galleine cocked his head to see Craig, his servant, seated calmly by his bedside and staring into his face.

"My lord, how do you feel now?"

Prince Galleine pulled himself to a sitting position, a low groan escaping his lips as he felt a raging pain all over his bared back.

"Not great, but I'll live," He replied. "How long was I out?"

"Two days and a half."

"Don't tell me I didn't wash in all that time."

"Melissa took care of that sir."

The Prince shook his head and instantly got out of bed. He began making slow, unsteady steps toward the end of the tent where his clothes hung. Craig offered to help but Prince Galleine waved him off.

"My lord, you are not fully recovered. You shouldn't be out of bed yet."

"Don't worry about me. Where is she now, I mean Melissa?"

"The adjacent tent. She spent the whole night here and I only prevailed on her a while ago to go and catch some sleep for herself."

"Ah," The Prince said absently. By now, he had slipped into a brown shirt and tight fitting leather pants. "How did I get out of Cevout alive?"

"Some warriors came along after you became unconscious. They somehow freed the prisoners there and let them fight the rebels. They used the diversion to get us out."

"Who is us?" Prince Galleine asked as he laced his combat boots.

"You, Melissa, Alan, your knight friends and I."

"What of that bastard Dunstan?"

"He disappeared in the middle of the er bedlam," Craig answered.

"Among the group of warriors, is there one of them of average height that fights with two swords and has long hair??"

"Certainly sir, how did you know that?"

"A hunch. The chap seems to always come around when I'm in trouble. Where is he now?"

"His tent is opposite this one but I don't think I've seen him around since yesterday."

"He always seem to disappear afterwards too," Prince Galleine mumbled to himself. "Do you know who he is?"

"His name is Marcus. I don't know anything else asides that."

The Prince nodded darkly. He was now fully dressed, having slipped on a pair of leather gloves and a cloak.

"I'll be back soon." He told Craig as he strode out of the tent.

The air outside was cold, Prince Galleine thought as a light breeze hit him. He looked round the camp, there were six tents arranged to form a semicircle. Beyond the camp was a tract of densely growing trees. Whoever had chosen this camping site had a good deal of military sense. No attack could sneak on them and they could easily take refuge in the woods if threatened.

Prince Galleine knocked on the wooden frame on the tent adjacent the one he just left in a bid to gain admittance. A head poked out a moment later. It was Alan's.

"My lord," He bowed deferentially when he saw the Prince.

The Prince nodded in acknowledgement. "I came to check on your sister."

"She is sleeping inside. . ."

The noisy approach of a rider from the woods diverted Prince Galleine's attention from the remainder of Alan's speech. The sound of the incoming horseman attracted other people in the surrounding tents. A young man with a mass of frizzed hair popped out of a tent nearby, followed by another armed man whom the Prince instantly recognised as Sir Harding. A dark lady sprang out of a tent opposite that one.

Presently, the rider pulled his horse to a stop in the middle of the camp. He was a short, young man with easy features.

"My lord. . ." He curtsied when he sighted the Prince.

"Who are you?" The Prince asked. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see the frizzy haired chap grabbing the hilt of his sword.

"I am Moreau from the palace at Casville. I'm afraid I've brought very bad tidings."

* * *

Sir Millicent walked into the study at Alton Manor to find Dunstan looking through the long rows of books on the magnificent shelf at the eastern corner of the room. Although Riana had informed him on his way up that a long haired man with a hooked nose was waiting for him, it still felt strange having Dunstan there.

"I didn't know you are given to reading," Sir Millicent remarked as he walked deeper into the room.

Dunstan turned and gave a slight shrug, "The mind has to stay nourished."

Sir Millicent settled in a chair and asked, "What brings you here?"

Dunstan returned the book he was holding and walked over to settle in a chair opposite Sir Millicent's, "Well, Our fort at Cevout was attacked by some jackals and the Prince escaped in the course of the fighting."

"I see," Sir Millicent said casually.

"You see?" Dunstan repeated in surprise. "Why, I thought you would be concerned that the Prince could come hitherward and ruin all your plans."

"No, I'm not worried about that. I have it planned out already. If anything, I'm only disappointed that your so called stronghold could not hold out against a simple attack."

"What can I say? It was in a moment of weakness. We were having the inmates games when they struck."

"And all the gold, liquor and ladies inhibited your defense eh?"

"You can say that again. Where is Finn?" Dunstan asked, changing topics tactfully.

"He's at a physician's. He is indisposed," Sir Millicent replied. Before Dunstan could get a word out, he added, "Follow me, there is something I would love you to see."

Sir Millicent led Dunstan down a long flight of stairs and through a very long alley. Just as Dunstan was beginning to wonder if they were going to the other end of the world, Sir Millicent stopped. He produced the key to a locked vault from the breast pocket of his ermine coat and opened the creaky door.

"This is my private army," Sir Millicent announced, indicating the endless rows of phantoms that filled the room.

"Impressive," Dunstan commented as he feasted his eyes on the smart looking soldiers. "Where did you get them?"

"I bought them from a Persian general."

"They don't mind staying here?"

"They have no choice," Sir Millicent answered. "You want to have a go at it with one of them?"

"Let's see what they can do," Dunstan said as he drew his sword. He probably wouldn't have done this if he knew that the beings before him were not human.

"Thick Beard," Sir Millicent called. A tall, barrel chested phantom with a misty face stepped forward. As far as Dunstan could see, Thick Beard had no beard, leaving him to wonder whence the sobriquet arose. Perhaps he had shaved.

"Attack!"

The big phantom attacked Dunstan with great ferocity. The rebel warlord simply stood no chance against the blinding speed with which the phantom fought. In less than a minute of combat, Thick Beard had disarmed Dunstan and held him up in the air by the scruff of his neck.

"Okay mate, you win. Let me go," Dunstan groaned.

"Thick Beard," Sir Millicent called calmly. "Kill him."







THE END OF CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

Failure always has its price in war.

stuff46:
Failure always has its price in war.

Very true. .

finally catch up with you,nice one bro

olanshile2016:
finally catch up with you,nice one bro

Welcome sir. .

I thought it was another update...

stuff46:
I thought it was another update...

I'm still editing the next chapter. . But then my enthusiasim has waned a little with the lack of feedback on the last update. . . Anyways, thanks for sticking around, you are one of the very few reasons I still put this story up here.

VanTee20:


I'm still editing the next chapter. . But then my enthusiasim has waned a little with the lack of feedback on the last update. . . Anyways, thanks for sticking around, you are one of the very few reasons I still put this story up here.

'waned a little' bawo....we're still following sire!

Need oral motivation

I have a very few words for you..

You are indeed one hell of a writer if you actually imagine all this captivating stuffs you have been feeding the public with.

A marvelous stuff to behold.

More ink to your pen Bro.... Nice creative writing Bro

Finally caught up with thee , I still find it hard to believe this all came from your imaginations. Kudos bro nice write up can't wait to read d next chapter

Ermmh Vantee20....

This is just awesome! keep up d gud work...

Is this thread/story abandoned by OP?

OP,i luv ds story, u r doin a great job.pls update.it has bn long u dd dat last

Vantee20...... Are you abandoning the story I pray you find inspiration and joy to continue it till completion....... Thanks Bro

vantee, where art thou??

vantee!!!

Hello Mr VanTee20,I just wanna know the reason you stopped this beautiful piece

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

Seven pairs of curious eyes were riveted on Moreau as he stood in the middle of the Red Knight's camp site, recounting the tragic events that had transpired in Casville of late. No doubt his narrative, rife with expletives and pejoratives, had a mesmeric effect on the members of the company as they all paid unwavering attention to his detailed description of the King's death and the gruesome way it had been occasioned by Sir Tremor. He told them as well of the incursion of the savage hordes into the Casvillean territory and how Sir Millicent had led a sally that vanquished the siege at the city gate.

As Moreau spoke of Queen Kendra's passing away, Melissa, whose sleep had been truncated by the noisiness of the palace guard's arrival, couldn't help shuddering rather violently. As she tried to steady her shivering body, her roving eyes fell on the Prince. His face was devoid of emotion. Melissa could only imagine how terrible he felt having become an orphan so unexpectedly.

The palace guard continued relaying his news. "Before I left the city around noon yesterday, I listened from my post as the Council members decided to crown Sir Millicent. The coronation is in a week's time."

The Red Knights were shocked and for a good reason, it was unheard of for another member of the royal family to be crowned when the crown prince was still alive. Perhaps the only person who didn't seem as flummoxed by the news was the Prince himself. He appeared to bear the bad tidings with remarkable sang-froid.

"Why would the Council make such an absurd ruling?" Sir Harding mused.

"How can they do that?" Elliott asked. "Do they think the Prince is dead or what?"

"I don't know if they think the prince is dead but I think I understand their motive," said Moreau. "The attack by the savages had taught them that the throne could not be left vacant for too long as this could give enemy empires the incentive to attack and cause annexed territories to revolt."

"Even that does not justify crowning someone else instead of the King's heir. Couldn't they have elected a Regent or let the council continue to run the affairs of the state until the Prince is found?" Xesandra argued.

"Get me a horse!" The Prince barked at his servant suddenly. There was an unmistakable icy quality in his voice.

Craig instantly disappeared behind one of the tents to carry out the Prince's orders. Just then, Moreau suddenly remembered something important. "My lord, I have a note for you from D'Aubriere."

"I don't have the time for any note," Prince Galleine said through clenched teeth, ignoring the folded brown parchment in Moreau's outstretched hand.

"But sire, he warned. . ."

"I said, no!" The Prince roared, his eyes giving off a lightening-like flash.

"Take it easy, my lord," said Melissa as she stepped closer to pacify him.

The cold, menacing stare Prince Galleine sent her way made her stop in her tracks and caused her to wonder if by any chance she had overstepped her bounds. So intense was the hostility in his eyes that she feared, perhaps illogically, that he might lay a hand on her.

Somehow, he did. His hand shot out and grabbed the scruff of her neck, drawing her close to him in manner that could not be exactly described as gentle. Melissa stood petrified as Prince Galleine hungrily lowered his mouth unto hers and engaged her in a wild kissing bout. It was nothing like the passionate ones they had shared in the past, this one bordered on the violent. It only seemed Prince Galleine was venting his despair.

"My lord. . The horse," Craig mumbled.

The Prince took one long last suck at Melissa's lower lip before he disengaged his mouth from hers. "Thank you for everything," he whispered into his mistress' red curls before turning to Craig who promptly handed him the rein.

Prince Galleine leapt onto the dark equestrian beast of burden and announced, "I'm going off to recover what is mine from the Council and my uncle. I hope to see you all at the capital soon. Moreau, give the note to Craig."

That said, the Prince turned the horse and galloped furiously out of the camp site, leaving behind him a thick cloud of dust and seven souls that wished him nothing but the best.

"Here," Moreau broke the silence as he handed Craig the note.

The sandy haired manservant set about breaking the seal. "How did you come to know D'Aubriere? And how did you become his courier?"

"I once did a shift guarding the maximum confinements and he was in one of the cells. That was how I knew him," Moreau said. "Then I agreed to go on this errand because I owed him a favour. He once forewarned me of an event could have claimed my life. Besides, he said the fate of the empire hangs on the delivery of the letter to the Prince. I hope you having it is just as good."

That piqued Craig's interest and he began to read the bold, cursive letters that were scribbled on the vellum once he was done unfurling it. He read the content slowly. As he read downwards, his face contorted and a gasp escaped his open mouth.

"What's wrong?" Melissa asked.

"The Prince is in great danger," He spluttered. "I have to warn him."

"What danger?" Elliott asked.

Craig took a moment to toss the scroll at Elliott before he ran off to grab a horse from the makeshift stable at the back of the tents and galloped wildly after the Prince. At the behest of others, Elliott read the scroll out.

In the interest of your life, stay away from Casville. Millicent killed your parents and he won't hesitate to kill you if you return, trying to foil his attempt to rule the empire. He has the council's backing and a secret army of the dead protecting him. Ride to Sokken and find Haldrinne, only he can tell you how to defeat your treacherous cousin.

"This is not good," Xesandra commented with a low sigh.

"No, it's not," Sir Harding said. "And I know one thing though, Craig will not catch up with the Prince no matter how hard he tries."

"How do you know that?"

"The Prince is a faster rider than Craig and Craig's horse is a lot less fleet footed than the one the Prince took."

"If the Prince gets to Casville ahead of Craig. . ." Melissa let her voice trail off. She couldn't bring herself to speak the words that had formed in her head.

Xesandra dropped a friendly hand on Melissa's shoulder and flashed her a reassuring smile. "It's okay, Melissa. Everything will be alright."

"And by the Blessed twins, where is your friend?" Xesandra asked Elliott.

"I don't know. I haven't seen him since last night," Elliott replied.

"I saw his lover and her servant riding away not long ago," Alan chipped in.

"Riding away?" Xesandra repeated in incredulity. "Why?"

Just then, Marcus popped, as if on cue, out of the grove behind the camp and headed straight for his tent. On sighting his companions, he waved perfunctorily before disappearing into the pitched canvas.

"I'll be back soon," Elliott announced as he walked away from the other knights towards what used to be Marcus and Helena's tent.

He entered the tent to see Marcus stuffing his odds and ends into a big bag.

"Hey, what's going on?"

Marcus squeezed the last of his clothes in the bag and then turned to face his friend. "I'm going home."

"Now? Why?"

"There is no reason for me to stay. Helena's gone."

"So I heard. What happened?"

"We had a little falling out, then she left in anger. Now I can't see any of her stuff around. I suppose she has returned home."

"I'm sorry about that. But that is not enough reason for you to leave. Have you no desire for fame and glory anymore?"

"There is no more glory to quest for. Malzene has told me to leave Casville, that I have failed my divine mission and all that. Failure to leave, he said, may attract dire consequences."

Elliott's ears pricked up, "How did Malzene tell you?"

"How did he tell me? I don't understand."

"I mean, how did he communicate to you? Did he send a note or . . ."

"He told me in person."

"It can't be. Malzene is in prison at Casville. This is a letter he wrote from there today," Elliott waved the parchment in Marcus' face.

Marcus eyed the parchment with little interest, "What does it say?"

"That Sir Millicent killed the King and queen because he wanted the throne. That he will kill the prince too if he returns to Casville. It says only a fellow called Haldrinne, who lives in Sokken, knows how to bring down Sir Millicent."

"So the Prince is going to find the fellow?"

"Alack, the Prince took off for Casville without reading Malzene's letter. That means we have to ride to Sokken to hear Haldrinne out while hoping the Prince keeps out of danger."

Marcus hauled his bag off the floor. "I'm sorry brother. You will have to proceed without me. I am accursed and can take part in this no more."

"There has to be a mistake somewhere. Are you sure it was Malzene you saw?"

"Yes, I saw him. And Helena saw him too. You may want to ask yourself if the letter was truly written by Malzene. Farewell brother."

Elliott watched as Marcus walked out of the tent with the heavy bag slung over his shoulder and wondered what had come over him. The Marcus he knew, the adventure seeking, daring Marcus would not meekly accept such an atrocious revelation. He would defy the words of Malzene and go with them to Sokken anyway.

"It must be the girl's doing," Elliott mumbled, heading for the exit. He had to prepare for the long ride to Sokken.

* * *

The golden afternoon sun had just slipped out from behind a patch of ghostly white cirrus cloud when Lady Helena Hargand and the stable boy, Royce arrived at the gates of Vath on the back of a long, strenuous ride across the plains of the East.

"Ma'am, I'll like to return to the Red knight's camp," Royce announced suddenly.

"Really? Now?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Why, you have come a long way. Why not rest the day and return tomorrow? I don't see the need to rush back."

Royce tilted his brown head and rubbed his glabella. "I have a feeling they'll leave the camp soon. If I don't catch up with them soon, I may have to search the entire Euschires forest for them."

Lady Helena peered into the stable boy's face and saw in it a fierce resolve that could not be dissuaded or cowed into submission. While she was concerned about his safety and welfare, she knew nothing she said would stop him from returning to team up with the Red knights.

"You should have told me of your intention to return earlier. I would have forbidden you to come this far," Helena said as they rode pass the gate and its unsmiling sentries.

"I wanted to see to your safety, ma'am."

"You can take your leave now then. Dusk will soon be upon us, the earlier you leave, the better."

"No, my lady. I will stay till we get home."

"I insist, Royce. We are back in Vath, I have no need of you anymore."

With an obsequious nod, Royce turned his horse and began to trot in the direction they had come from.

"Be safe, my lady."

"You too, Royce. Tell Marcus I . . ."

"You what?"

"Never mind."

Helena rode on without a backward glance at her departing companion. She felt a strange heaviness of the heart and quickly dispelled it with thoughts of her family. Will her father not have noticed her absence from the castle? Surely, he can't be too occupied with his numerous meetings with his fellow noblemen not to detect his beloved daughter's absence. She wondered what lie Freya would employ to cover for her.

"Look out miss, you're going off road," A solemn looking elderly man in a billowing smock called out.

"Oh, thanks," Helena replied with an embarrassed smile as she turned her white mare back onto the sandy road of the Vath suburbs.

"Perhaps you should get a driver. Young ladies like you with little experience shouldn't be riding unaccompanied."

"I have been riding since I could walk," Helena retorted. But she only said it in her head, indeed she chose to ignore the nosy chap and dug her legs into her horse's side, a cue for the beast to switch from cantering to galloping. She only slowed down when her father's castle came in sight.

Not wanting to attract attention, Helena got off her horse and led her horse through a small path to the back of the castle. The path was seldom used by any inhabitant of the horse, so her chances of slipping in unnoticed remained high. She will then go to Freya's room and find out what Freya had told Father so that she won't say something discordant if he questioned.

Helena was stealthily approaching the courtyard when a most unexpected event happened. A hand grabbed her from behind and pulled her off her course. In a fit of panic, Helena let go of the horse as she tried to balance as well as giving off a scream. But her scream came off as nothing more than a pitiable whimper as her assailant's hand secured her mouth. Seeing the useless of her screams, Helena changed tactics. She opened her mouth as wide as she could and dug her teeth in her attacker's palm.

"Ho, you bite like a carnivore," her assailant cried. The voice was unnervingly familiar.

With the grip on her slackening, Helena spun and came face to face with her attacker.

"Freya! you scared the life out of me. What horrible joke is this?"

"Forgive me sister, I meant well. Count Ressier has come to see Father and I don't want you running into him," Freya said. "Come, how was your romantic traipse? Tell me everything."

Helena felt her cheeks grow hot, flaming hot. "There isn't much to tell. I spent most the time I was away looking for him. When I found him, things went well until he started throwing tantrums."

"You've been away for what? Weeks. And this is all you'll tell me."

"What do you want to hear?" Helena asked.

"Did he kiss you?"

"I. . Well yes. Many times."

"Oh, wonderful. Did he sleep with you?"

"Freya!"

"I was just asking," Freya's smile was mischievous. "By the way, you have come back at a very wrong time."

"What do you mean?"

"Despite my manoeuvrings, Father discovered that you were away and now promises to marry you off to Count Ressier, the moment he sets his eyes on you."

Helena was speechless, leaving her sister to continue. "Now, now, you mustn't swoon. I'll advise that you go back to your lover at once. You mustn't let Father see you."

"But Marcus and I are not on good terms," Helena protested feebly. Her voice caught in her throat in a way that testified to her ill ease.

"I suppose, you will return to him or do you find living with Count Ressier more appealing?"

"No, of course not."

"Then you have to leave."

"I'm afraid it's too late."

Those words, chilling in their way, didn't belong to Helena. They belonged to a short, corpulent man with cropped hair and big eyes. Two men dressed in jerkins and armed with broadswords stood beside him.

"Count Ressier!" Helena gasped. The two sisters exchanged shocked glances. How on earth the balding man had gotten behind was beyond them.

"It's so good to see you again, my lovely," Count Ressier said, bowing enthusiastically to Helena. To his men he pronounced firmly, "Seize her!"

* * *

The morning was cold and blustery. Activities were in full swing in the Red knights' camp. Tents were being taken down, valuables being stuffed in bags and loaded on horse backs as the men feverishly prepared for their trip to Sokken.

Xesandra brushed a strand of hair off her dark face as she strode over to her gallant ride. An interesting thought struck her and she promptly voiced it.

"Fellows, seeing how low we are on food supplies, don't you think we should consider hunting?"

Alan replied without looking up from the pole he was digging. "I'm fully in support. I'm so sick of apples I may just drop dead if I took another bite."

"No, no. Why should we burn time hunting when locating Haldrinne is our priority? We have no time to waste," Elliott posed.

With practised ease, Xesandra leapt onto her horse. "It is amusing how easily you talk of responsibility when you have never really been responsible for anything in your life."

"And it is amusing how you never seem to be able to string two sentences together without insulting people," Elliott said with an exasperated sigh.

"Peace, peace," Sir Harding offered. "I'll suggest that we ride for Sokken right away but keep our eyes out for any game that may come our way."

The Red knights agreed to this and before long , they were off on the narrow trail that led to Sokken. They had only rode a few leagues when they sighted a boar standing in the middle of the road, facing the opposite direction from which the Red knights approached.

Without scruple, Xesandra grabbed her bow, fixed an arrow in it and fired, all in a matter of seconds. The boar was caught in neck and gave a piteous cry of distress. It staggered, looking certain to hit the ground immediately but the moment passed and the boar, rather miraculously, seemed to recover from the supposedly fatal shot and began to scamper down the road.

"After it!" Xesandra and Elliott chorused.

The red knights rode after the tusked beast. It was soon out of sight but the red knights were able to follow it with the blood trail.

"I must confess I am intrigued by this boar. It has kept on the road whereas it could have shaken us off by leaping in the woods. Isn't it surprising?" Alan asked.

"I find it more surprising that the great Xesandra could fail to hit a clean mark at such a close range," Elliott said.

"What are you driving at?" Xesandra bristled.

"Simple, you are not as good as you make out to be."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, you have always carried on about how you are the best archer in Casville, yet this gaffe of yours is a clear indication that you are nowhere near being the finest marksperson around. Sir Comadevall certainly wouldn't have failed to kill the boar at that range. Lady Amy too."

Xesandra smiled gently. "I shall not excuse my failure to kill the boar with a single shot, but I know that I have bested Amy in so many private tournaments that it has ceased to be a contest to me. As for Sir Comadevall, the only reason he wins all the royal archery tournaments is because women are not allowed to complete."

By now, the company had trailed the boar to a clearing and there were no blood trails anymore and the boar had vanished from sight.

"We should start heading back we have wasted enough time chasing this accursed boar," Elliott opined.

"The boar is there!" Royce said, pointing to the branch on which the beast hung dead. A hooded figure came from beside the tree. A gigantic sheath was girded to his pantaloons.

"I am Lars, King of the Shapeshifters. The boar you killed," The man said in a voice that was morose. "Is my brother. Our parents entrusted him in my care, now you've killed him."

"Your brother is a boar?" Royce asked.

"We apologise sir. We had no idea that the boar was human," Elliott said.

"Which of you struck him?" The aggrieved man asked.

Xesandra stepped forward, her face a mask of guilt. "I did sir and truly, I have never been more sorry for anything in my life."

"Dark lady, you shall pay for this great evil!" The man said as he pulled off his glove. "Accept the gage. Yes I cannot fight you so pick a man to fight for you!"

Sir Harding made to step forward but someone pulled him back. It was Elliott. "Let me."

"You sure?"

The mass of small curls on Elliott's head jiggled as he nodded in assent. He unsheathed his blade and walked towards the Carjan. The Shape-shifter huffed.

"You? You aren't afraid of the King of the Shapeshifters?"

"The woman's innocence is my strength. I fear thee not."

The Shapeshifter laughed, a long, hard, throaty laugh.

"Perhaps my current shape is not awe-inspiring enough," Lars said and with a great roar, he transformed quickly. His features quickly morphing into that of a doddering old man clad in a spotlessly white robe. The giant blade in his hand had become a wand of some sort.

"Oh don't look so nonplussed," The old man said, a wide grin exposing his depleted dentition. "I am Haldrinne, whom you seek."





THE END OF CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

I've forgotten most of the characters its has been long but I will try to follow.

Welcome welcome

WOW! I never knew this story would continue It's such a wonderful story

Evold:
I've forgotten most of the characters its has been long but I will try to follow.

Thanks.

Niwdog:
Welcome welcome

Thank you, thank you.

RICKYMARIO:
WOW! I never knew this story would continue It's such a wonderful story

Rickymario! Thanks for sticking around sir.

I guess we're to expect the next sets of updates by next year. Nevertheless, Nice plot, great story.