Sean studied Burchard for a few moments without responding, then reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. “It is fortunate you came this way. I presume you will be returning to Alderth Castle?”
Burchard nodded in confirmation.
“Good. I have this letter for General Wolfensberger. It is regarding the next lumber order. If you can deliver it to him, that would help immensely.” Sean stepped close to Burchard and offered him the letter before stepping back just in time to miss Chip’s attempt to bite his arm.
“Sorry,” muttered Burchard. He tucked the letter into his front saddlebag.
“Don’t worry about the horse. I have been known to bite strangers when they got that close too,” Sean said with a grin. “Oh, and just in case the General wants to know who gave you that letter to be sure it’s official and whatnot, I’m Sean Radvall and this here,” he said with a wave at Seth, “is my twin, Seth Radvall. Our uncle Samuel Radvall runs the mill.” Sean took another step back toward his brother. “We need to get back to work before we lose what’s left of the light. I’m not sure where you’re headed, but I would not go up to the hollows if you were planning to. Some bad business is happening in that area, and no one I’ve sent up there has come back.”
Burchard bit his tongue, preventing something stupid from spilling out. Taking a deep breath, he said, “Thank you, sir. We appreciate the warning. I will keep your letter safe and see that it is delivered.”
Before Burchard could say anything else, both Sean and Seth Radvall melted back into the trees without a trace.
He shared a look of bewilderment with Ruschmann. “Let’s go.” Clucking, he urged Chip into a trot, eager to get out of the forest belonging to Radvall Mill.
10
After riding for about an hour in silence, Burchard couldn’t stand it anymore. He just needed to say what was on his mind. “Sean Radvall…he mentioned bad things happening at ‘the hollows.’ Do you think he’s referring to Leosor Hollows or somewhere else?”
“You have the map. Can’t you check it?” Ruschmann pointed out.
“I have the map memorized. There aren’t any other places labeled ‘hollows,’ but who knows if what the locals name things is what the king names them. I also have no idea how current the map I have is,” Burchard responded.
He watched as Ruschmann picked at a twig in his horse’s red mane. “What is going on with you and Lady Gladys?”
Burchard felt his face heat up. “What do you mean?’ He kept his eyes focused on the trees in front of him.
“Well, she spent a lot of time at your bedside when you were injured, and I’ve seen the looks you share at times,” Ruschmann teased.
“We’re just friends,” Burchard said defensively.
Ruschmann snorted. “Does she know that’s how you feel?”
Burchard tipped his head to the side so he could look at Ruschmann. “No. Or I mean, I don’t think so. It’s not like we go around talking about our feelings.”
“Perhaps you should before she gets the wrong idea and you break her heart,” Ruschmann said loudly.
Burchard sighed. “We’re fourteen. I’m not going to break her heart. Besides, when did you become so knowledgeable about girls?”
“You and I spent a year apart last year. Sir Daniel and I had a chance to go up to Port Riverdale, which is a larger city than Ironhaven is at Burmstone Palace. I met lots of different people,” Ruschmann said and got a misty look in his eyes.
“What you’re saying is that you have a girl waiting for you at Port Riverdale?” Burchard asked in disbelief.
Ruschmann nodded. “Yes.”
“Do you realize how silly that sounds? We both belong to noble houses, which means our marriages are likely to be arranged. Why bother getting involved with anyone like that when you know what’s certain to be in your future?” Burchard demanded.
Ruschmann shrugged. “What’s wrong with living the way I want while I still have a chance to? We are only granted one life, Burchard. I don’t want to realize one day that I could have had a better one if only I’d lived it for me, not for someone else’s agenda.”
Burchard nibbled on the inside of his lip, contemplating Ruschmann’s words. His friend wasn’t wrong. In some ways, what Ruschmann was suggesting was already what he was doing. Standing up for what he felt was right, even if his father disagreed.
They rode in silence for a while, the fall light starting to fade and casting deep shadows around the trees. Burchard was pretty sure they could reach Leosor Hollows before it got completely dark.
Shadows were growing long, making it difficult to see the details of the forest surrounding them. Burchard heard a noise, and Chip paused in response to the subtle shifts he made in the saddle. He drew his sword and swung just in time as a large great horned owl flew right over his head, talons out. With the close proximity of the owl to his head, the swing missed, but the owl screeched while banking and came back for another pass. Before the owl could reach him, an arrow grazed his cheek, causing him to almost drop his sword in surprise. Growling, he swiped his left hand at his face and it came back covered in blood.
He adjusted his hand around his sword, wondering where on earth Ruschmann was. He was just behind me a few moments ago. The owl came back for a third pass. This time Burchard put both hands on his sword, preparing to strike and take it out once and for all. As the owl swooped down, he began moving his sword in an arc, when a sharp pain pierced his arm and his sword fell from his hand. Glancing down, Burchard realized there was an arrow sticking out of his arm. Who are these people attacking us? He saw the barest outline of a cloaked figure standing next to a large oak with a longbow drawn and another arrow aimed right for him. At this distance, whoever it was would have to be an absolutely terrible shot to miss him, even with minimal light.
The owl abruptly flared its wings and glided to the branch above the stranger. Its dark golden eyes followed his every movement.
“Why are you here?” the stranger said.
At precisely the same time, Burchard growled, “If you’re going to shoot again, just get it over with.”
The stranger’s hood fell back. Based on the voice, Burchard thought it was a young woman, but the minimal light made it difficult to discern much else. Her long hair flowed over her shoulders, no longer hidden by the hood.
“The owl was just informing you that we were here and you drew your sword first. I was only defending myself,” she said in a surprisingly musical voice.
“Your owl was going for the kill. It is my right to defend myself,” Burchard said, straightening in the saddle. With his left arm dangling at his side, the arrow protruding from it, he could feel the blood dripping down his fingers and onto the leaf-covered forest floor.
She tilted her head, considering him, before giving a sharp whistle. Another figure came out from a rock outcropping, pushing Ruschmann before them at sword point. I wonder where Cricket went.
“You are trespassing,” the figure said in a deep male-sounding voice.
“This is King Roland’s land. I am a squire of Etria; therefore, I am not trespassing,” Burchard said quietly, keeping his focus on the woman with the bow.
