The Oddling Prince by Nancy Springer

Author:Nancy Springer [Springer, Nancy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781616962890
Publisher: Tachyon Publications
Published: 2018-05-15T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THE NINTEENTH

“AND IT IS THIS.” I turned to address the glowering vassal in the dungeon. “Lord Brock, order your men to march home to Domberk immediately.” The light of dawn showed through the bars of the dungeon window high above his head; his army could get an early start. “You shall remain where you are. A small force, no more than six, of your people shall return here, bringing with them your daughter Marissa as a hostage for your release. If she is willing, and if you will swear to keep the peace thereafter, I shall marry her. Her son, your grandson, will grow to rule Calidon, as has been your ambition.”

My mother gasped. My father stiffened. Of all concerned, only Lord Brock Domberk seemed not to be shocked. He stood stroking his beard, as if he had a choice in the matter.

Father growled at him, “I would rather kill you like the treacherous dog you are.”

Domberk’s eyes smoldered, but he spoke to his captain. “Carry out Prince Aric’s orders. Go.”

Silently, the defeated soldiers rose and filed out, with Albaric at their heels—dangerous for him, one on guard over many. I sprang to go with him.

“Aric,” Mother cried after me, “you’re wounded!”

“Later,” I called back.

But not too much later. Within moments, as my fury abated, my strength finally gave out. Father had gone to release and rally the forces of Caltor, and I dimly remember being back in the throne room, by daylight now, overseeing the transfer of Lord Domberk’s clothing down to his new and less pleasant quarters. Albaric was saying, “I wonder who it was that so desperately ran away when we stormed the door. For an instant as he came out, I thought it was King Bardaric. There was some resemblance.”

“Bah. Probably just a manservant saving his own skin,” I tried to say, but the words slid together, the world began spinning, and as I clung to Albaric's shoulder, everything went black.

I awoke in my own bed, my own room, to candlelight, a confused mind, a parched throat, and an empty belly. “What, it’s night already?” I said—to no one, as it turned out. Sitting up to open the bed canopy, I found I was alone in the chamber. My wounds had been bandaged, and someone had put on me a knee-length tunic, soft and comfortable from long wear and many washings. But I could not stay in bed, could not go back to sleep, because I felt famished. When had I last eaten? Had it been the oat bread and berries from the frightened peasant woman? Getting to my feet, I felt lightheaded and, thinking only that I must eat, I made toward the kitchen, carrying the candle to light my way.

As I trod the stone passageways, no one seemed to be about, giving me an eerie feeling of not quite knowing what was real, and I began to think that I had been killed and was a ghost, because clash of swords and blood

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