King's Errand

  Table Of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Epilogue.

  Also by NJ Layouni

  Author’s Note:

  about the author

  Tales of the Traveler: King’s Errand

  Copyright © 2019 by N. J. Layouni. All rights reserved.

  First Edition: January 2020

  Edits suggested by Red Adept

  Cover and Formatting: Streetlight Graphics

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  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  For my friends:

  Krissie, Andrea, Zoe, Heather, Liz, Jo.

  Friendship really IS magic!

  Chapter One

  The subdued rumble of male voices from the adjoining room roused Vadim from his slumber. In bed beside him, Martha and the twins slept on, and he meant to keep it that way.

  Wait… was that Ma’s voice? What was happening out there?

  Carefully slipping his arm from beneath his wife’s pillow, Vadim eased himself out of bed. Martha gave a quiet mutter of protest but did not stir. She was still too bone weary.

  Hardly surprising really, considering that just three hellish days ago, Vadim had faced the real and very frightening prospect of losing his wife forever. The twins’ birth had been a great trial, one that was both long and bloody. It had taken all of the considerable combined midwifery skills of Ma and Agatha to keep his little family alive.

  Tiptoeing across the room, he went in search of his boots. One of the floor planks creaked a loud protest beneath his bare foot. Vadim winced and froze, hardly daring to breathe. He glanced back at the bed but, thankfully, the precious dreamers slept on.

  Dragging his boots upon his feet on the hop, Vadim made a wild grab for the shirt draped carelessly over the large trunk at the foot of their bed and dragged the garment over his head. Still in the process of fastening the neck tie, he cracked open the door of their bedchamber and peered out to see what was going on in the room beyond.

  A scene of chaos greeted his eyes.

  With her back to the door, the diminutive figure of Ma guarded the bedchamber against the threaten of invasion—in this case, by Lord Reynard and two of his advisers. Anselm and Seth were also present, but their role seemed to be only a supportive one. Flanking Ma on either side, they looked poised to lend the old lady their muscle should she have need of it.

  Not that Ma would require anyone’s aid, for in full sail, their paternal grandmother was as daunting now as she’d ever been. Full grown as he was, Vadim was still wary of provoking the old lady too far for fear of rousing her impressive wrath.

  Only someone extremely foolish—or desperate—would even consider tackling Ma in her current mood and, as a long-standing friend of their family, Reynard knew this as well as anyone. Which made this current act of foolhardiness all the more puzzling for his friend wasn’t backing down at all. Since Reynard was as clever a man as had ever drawn breath, something must be very wrong indeed.

  “And I say you cannot see him, Reynard!” Ma snapped in a voice which dared him to defy her. With her frail arms crossed about her waist, she was seriously displeased. “That poor lad has had no proper rest in days. Leave him be, why don’t you, at least until a more reasonable hour? ’Tis barely even cockcro—”

  “Vadim!” Reynard cried when he spied his friend emerging from the bedchamber. “Oh, thank the spirits! I must speak to you at once on a most urgent matter.”

  But Ma still would not abandon her post and continued to stand in Reynard’s way. “Lord Edgeway won’t be speaking with you or anyone else until he’s properly—”

  “Be at ease, Ma.” Gently placing his hands upon the old lady’s frail shoulders, Vadim slowly turned her to face him.“You may stand down, m’lady. I was awake anyhow,” he lied with a smile. “Let Lord Reynard speak his piece.”

  Ma gave an irritated huff. “You’re too good-natured, my boy. Then again, you always were. Even as a child you were a kindly little soul. But now that you’re Lord Edgeway you really must try to alter your ways, for there will always be someone waiting to take advantage of your generous spirit. Unless you learn to stand firm against the constant bleating of the undeserving your situation will only grow worse.” Here she darted a flinty-eyed look at Lord Reynard, “Mark my words,” she muttered grimly, “it has already begun.”

  Vadim bent down and placed a gentle kiss on Ma’s thin cheek. “Consider your words well marked, m’lady. But I have nothing to fear, not while I have you here to defend me from the attention of the… less deserving.” He winked at Reynard, but for once his friend had no answering smile. Dark shadows haunted the angles and hollows of Reynard’s gaunt face, and his usually pristine clothes were unnaturally unkempt, creased and rumpled as though he hadn’t changed them in days. Vadim had seen Reynard in many a dire situation over the years, but he’d seldom looked as bad as he did at this moment. By nature, his friend was usually the most composed of men, but now he looked worried to death. What could have happened?

  Ma threw up her hands and sighed in defeat. “Oh, very well,” she said grudgingly. “Speak to your friend if you must. I will go and watch over your family in your stead.” Contenting herself with one last ve
nomous glare at Reynard and his companions, Ma hobbled inside the bedchamber and quietly closed the door behind her.

  As Ma departed, Vadim wasn’t the only one to release a pent-up breath.

  “Finally,” Reynard declared with feeling. “First, you must allow me to congratulate you on the safe arrival of your new family, my friend. I wish you every joy in your children, indeed I do.”

  “Thank you.” Vadim accepted Reynard’s hand when he offered it and clasped it firmly. “I will be sure to convey your good wishes to my wife when she wakes. Now, what is all this about, hmm?” Vadim glanced at the the two silent advisers, Butters and Millstone, who were hovering by the door, muttering quietly to one another. “As glad as I am to see you, I take it this visit is not merely a social one.”

  “Indeed it is not.” Reynard looked grim. “You cannot know how it heartens me to see you back amongst us once more. The townsfolk had begun to wonder if you were dead, so long has it been since you were last seen abroad in daylight hours.”

  It had only been a couple of days. “Most amusing, I’m sure.” Only it wasn’t. Not really. Death was nothing to make light of, especially when the stench of its foul breath still tainted the castle.

  With a quick jerk of his chin, Vadim acknowledged Seth and Anselm. As their services to Ma were no longer required, they’d wandered over to the window seat and were now sitting rather awkwardly together. Forge immediately rested his head upon Anselm’s lap, demanding attention and effectively acting as a hairy wall between the two men.

  Despite all that had occurred during the past few months, father and son were still ill at ease with one another. Although the passage of days had softened their former hostility into something less destructive, the barriers separating them remained firmly in place.

  Perhaps they always would.

  Settling into his usual chair by the fire,Vadim said to Reynard, “Very well, speak to me, my friend. Tell me this urgent news. I take it something of a serious nature has occurred,”

  “You might say so, yes.” Reynard perched on the arm of the other chair, his dark gray eyes betraying a glimpse of his inner anxiety. “’Tis Fergus.”

  “What about him?”

  “He’s nowhere to be found.”

  The knots in Vadim’s stomach eased at once. Was that all? For a moment he’d feared something truly terrible must have happened. “And when did you see him last?”

  “Two nights ago. At supper.”

  “I see.” If this was a taste of fatherhood to come Vadim certainly had some rough times ahead of him.

  Fergus wasn’t a child. He was a young man in the prime of his life and at the very summit of his strength. In battles past, Vadim had often fought at his side. He had nothing but admiration for the lad, both as a warrior and as a man. Not only did Fergus have youth on his side, but he was highly skilled with both blade and bow.

  What possible peril could have befallen him in a castle full of friends? Surely Reynard was vexing himself needlessly?

  Seth cleared his throat. “And it seems young Effie is missing, too.”

  Vadim immediately sat up a little straighter. Most of the castle were aware of Effie’s tender regard for Lord Reynard’s son and, in turn, of the young man’s quiet, steady passion for her. Had they finally decided to do something about it? Martha wouldn’t be happy if her favorite maid had absconded with Fergus.

  Vadim shook himself. Wait. What was he thinking? Reynard’s paranoia must be contagious. Surely there was a more reasonable explanation to be had.

  “Let us consider the matter with cooler heads for a moment. Fergus and Effie are both young and in love… and a castle is a big place. Isn’t it more likely that the two of them are holed up somewhere in a secret love nest, perhaps, having lost all sense of time?”

  How well Vadim recalled the first flush of romance with Martha. What a merry dance she’d led him back then. So befuddled had she rendered him he’d barely been able to remember his own name, let alone the hour of the day. And this was only in the early days, before their love had taken a more… intimate turn.

  When a new love first entered the heart, all rational thought departed at the exact same moment. Everyone knew it was so.

  But still Reynard looked concerned. No. Something else was at play here, something that had yet to be revealed.

  “What else?” he demanded. Without the full story, he was as good as blind. “Tell me the whole of it.”

  “Fergus is already betrothed,” Reynard answered quietly.

  “To Effie?” But even as he spoke the words, Vadim realized how foolish they sounded. If that were the case, why would Fergus disappear?

  “No,” Reynard admitted quietly, confirming Vadim’s suspicion. “He is to marry Lady Juliana and Lord Gareth’s eldest daughter—Belinda.”

  “Oh!” Juliana. Now there was a name from the mists of his unmarried past; a name that stirred up a simmering cauldron of memories. “And you believe Fergus and Effie have—?”

  “Run off together?” Reynard supplied smoothly, his eyes flashing like quick silver. “Yes, I most certainly do.”

  Now Vadim understood the root of Reynard’s concern. Dismissing Lady Juliana from his mind, he asked, “Do you have proof of this supposed elopement?”

  “The sentries report seeing Fergus and a female companion slipping out though the postern gate two nights ago.”

  Perhaps they’d simply gone to the town of Edgeway in order to spend some undisturbed time together? Vadim was fool enough to give voice to this thought.

  “Oh, Vadim!” Reynard snapped. “Are you being deliberately obtuse or has lack of sleep curdled your remaining wits? Fergus and this… wench of his were seen leaving the castle together. They were each burdened with a heavy pack apiece. Rather excessive for a simple trip to town, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Vadim forgave Reynard his uncustomary rudeness. All things considered, his old friend was being remarkably calm.

  Getting up from his chair, Vadim began pacing the room hoping the activity would remove some of the densest cobwebs from his brain.

  “What has been done to recover them?” He directed this question at Seth. As Edgeway’s acting steward, no doubt he’d already ordered a search party.

  “Of course, I sent out riders at the very moment the alarm was raised,” Seth replied, standing up. “But you know as well as I do, lad, outlaws—reformed or otherwise—are not easy men to track down. They cannot be found if they don’t want to be found.”

  A valid point. Up until a few months ago, Vadim had been an outlaw himself, and his survival had depended a good deal upon the ability of being able to make himself ‘disappear’ at will.

  “I hope you will forgive me for speaking bluntly, Reynard,” Seth continued, “but I believe our young lovers do not want us to find them.”

  In which case, Fergus and Effie were now well and truly out of anyone’s reach.

  Fergus had learned the art of vanishing at a very early age for the older outlaws had been only too happy to indulge the lad’s curiosity and pass on their survival skills. Unfortunately for Reynard, his son had proved a good student. Too good. Covering his tracks and blending in were now as natural to him as playing the harp.

  “Where would he go?” Vadim muttered, half to himself. Raking back his hair, he tried to think as Fergus might. Although the lad was well used to living in the wilds, Effie wasn’t. She didn’t share the same abilities, or so Vadim hoped. With an inexperienced woman in tow, sooner or later Fergus would eventually be forced out of hiding. “But where would he take her?”

  “I have no idea,” Reynard said with a heavy sigh. “Believe me, I’ve wracked my brains until my skull aches but I can find no answers.”

  “Has Fergus made any new friends of late?” Seth asked.

  Reynard shrugged elegantly. “’Tis always possible, I suppose. But if he h
as, I haven’t heard mention of anyone unfamiliar. Most of his friends are also mine, so who would he turn to? He will certainly need someone’s aid before long. But who?”

  The men ruminated on the riddle in silence for a few moments.

  Rising from the window seat, Anselm limped over to claim the fireside chair Vadim had so recently vacated, Forge acting as his living walking aid.

  With a groan of relief, he settled down onto the cushioned seat and gingerly stretched out his legs until his boots rested upon the stone lip of the hearth. Forge flopped down onto the rug beside him, staying close to Anselm’s legs.

  When had those two begun keeping one another company? But then, Vadim and Martha had been so occupied with baby business of late mayhap the poor beast had been forced to find a new friend to keep him company. Someone who didn’t move as quickly.

  “Oh well,” Seth said, clapping his hands and rubbing them briskly together. “There’s nothing else for it. We shall just have to track them down the old way… on foot.”

  He was right. When traveling by horseback, it was too easy to overlook any subtle signs Fergus and Effie might have left upon the land. On foot, there were better odds of discovering news of the runaways. ’Twas a slower method, but a surer one.

  Even so, finding them wasn’t guaranteed.

  “Why bother?” Anselm chimed up from his comfortable place by the fire. The warmth must have loosened his tongue for he’d been unnaturally quiet thus far.

  “I beg your pardon.” Reynard glared at Anselm from the neighboring chair, his silver eyes narrowed, daring him to repeat what he’d just said. “I fear I must have misheard you.”

  Anselm was nothing if not bold—either that or incredibly stupid. “Oh, there’s nothing wrong with your hearing, m’lord,” he assured Reynard. “Well, not yet at least. Indeed, for a man fast approaching the winter of life, your senses appear to serve you remarkably well.” He looked around the room, grinning, but no one smiled back.

  Vadim scrubbed his hand over his face in frustration. What the devil was he up to now? His brother’s truce with Seth and the other men was still too fragile to be tested, especially with such an ill-advised jest.