When the War Ends: Chapter One

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      She was a fool. She was a fool, and soon she would be dead.

      She should never have left the palace grounds at all. Certainly not without telling anyone, riding an elderly mare meant for the training of frightened children. She had her sword; she always did. But her training had been for recreation, not necessity, and she had never trained on horseback.

      She was a fool, and she would die, and it would be because she had let Joel get to her, again, as she always did, even a decade later.

      There would be a little time, before she died. She would be recognized before they could kill her, today. But they would kill her eventually. There would be no ransom; the royal coffers were empty. She had a little time left. It would not be a pleasant time.

      There were four men, all on horseback. Their clothing was an odd mix of styles—one man wore a worn wool jacket with the kind of clasps they used in Olion, with the wide legged linen trousers favored in Ibanar, and the style of boot that was fashionable in Aliria a few years ago, which certainly shouldn't be worn with wide legged trousers. Another wore the special mountain-climbing boots usually seen only in northern Olion, near the mountain range, and a shirt cut in the Ibanari fashion. A decade ago, the mishmash would have indicated a traveller, or someone from a border town. Now, it was more likely to mean a deserter or a bandit, wearing whatever he could steal, often off the corpses of men he killed.

She drew her sword, but was still trying to decide whether to dismount and put herself below her enemies, or do her best with Tulip’s head in the way, when a man yanked her out of the saddle and threw her to the ground.

      She tossed her sword aside to avoid landing on the blade. Tulip reared, and nearly stepped on her coming back down. She landed on her left side, and felt her ankle twist beneath her.

She couldn’t defend herself against so many, and couldn’t hope to run with horses in the mix, even if she hadn’t twisted her ankle. She forced herself to her feet and collected her sword, despite the futility. Her reputation was bad enough already; she wouldn’t add cowardice to the list.

The man who’d thrown her from her horse dismounted himself. She took a moment to study him, aware that the other men were catching Tulip. (It wouldn’t be difficult. She was the elderly pet of a princess, not a warhorse.)

      He wore a mask which obscured the upper half of his face, except for slits cut out for his eyes. He was tall, with the dark skin and, when he spoke, the achingly familiar accent that labelled him Ibanari. There was something familiar in the shape of his forehead, his chin, which she attributed to his ethnicity as well. (She’d not known many Ibanari men. The one she’d known best, she tried not to think of.) His nose had been broken in the past, and there was a long scar on his right cheek, starting behind the covered part of his face. Dark, glossy curls escaped from the bottom of his mask.

      “Princess,” he said.

      Eloise didn’t bother denying it. She had her father’s nose, which had also been her grandfather’s nose and her uncles’, and the same golden-blonde ringlets as all three of her sisters and several cousins. She might get away with claiming to be a duchess, but no one with a passing knowledge of the royal family would believe she wasn’t part of it.

      “Eloise, isn't it?”

      That did surprise her, a bit. While the women of her family shared a few distinctive features identifying them as royalty, it was not often a stranger could tell immediately which of them was which. It meant that this was deliberate, that they had come looking for her. It meant that they had expected her to be here, which was impressive as she had not, this morning, expected to be here herself.

      Of course, she was the princess with the reputation; if any of them would be foolish enough to leave the grounds alone during a war, it would be her.

      She wasn’t foolish. Usually. But she was perpetually restless, and edging toward desperate as the rumors flew.

       It didn’t matter if she was foolish or not. There was no one but these four men to defend herself to. These men who would kill her and, if she was lucky, not do anything worse, first.

      She didn’t deny her identity. She didn’t confirm it, either. It was largely irrelevant. Any princess—any duchess, too—would be worth a fair ransom, theoretically. But it mattered little how much she may be worth, when her family could never afford to pay it.

      They stood there, staring at each other, Eloise’s sword useless in her hand, until the other three men returned, leading Tulip. Eloise tightened her grip on the sword, pointlessly, as they surrounded her.

      “You won’t hurt my horse?” she asked.

      “We won’t,” the masked man assured her. “We’ll need her yet.”

      She was skittish, still; the masked man took her bridle from the others, stroking her nose to sooth her. Tulip was, unfortunately, easily soothed. A horse more wary of strangers would have been more useful, in this situation.

      (Any horse but Tulip would have been more useful, as dearly as Eloise loved her.)

      “I’ll take that sword now,” he said. “Do I need to tie your hands as well?”

      “No,” she said. “I know my limits—I won’t outrun your horse.” Especially not with a twisted ankle.

      “Your sword,” he said again, and she held it out to him, hilt first. She couldn’t afford to antagonize him. Not now. Not yet. They were in the woods, miles from the city and the palace both.

      He took the sword easily, and held it out toward another man, who took it gingerly.

      “Now what?” she asked.

      “One of my men will take the ransom demand to the palace.”

      “And how much is it?”

      He named the price. Eloise wished uselessly for her sword. Her father couldn’t have paid that a year ago. He couldn’t have paid that two years ago. Now, this deep into the war, the only jewels left were too precious, too symbolic of their kingdom, to be sold, and the taxes had been raised as high as they could be, with the people at their breaking point.

      Even the jewels left—if they sold the sunset diamonds (if anyone would buy them), if they melted down a crown or two—

      Her father would do that, for her. But they were at war with the only countries nearby, and with growing risk of a civil war as well—who would buy their heirlooms? Who would want to help them? The time it would take to find someone, for the exchanges to be made—

      She could not count on a ransom. Certainly not at that price.

      If he had noticed her distress, he didn’t show it.

      “We’ll be travelling a way. I assume this girl can be compelled to follow the others? Compliant enough, isn’t she?”

      “She’ll follow your horses. And she can’t outrun them.”

      This man would kill her, in time. She shouldn’t be grateful that she could keep her utterly useless horse.

      “At least you’re dressed sensibly,” he said. “That will make things easier.”

      She had worn breeches for this outing, not out of any need to disguise herself, but because they were more comfortable for riding. Her clothing was undyed linen and brown wool, because their kingdom was out of money, and the nicer clothing—the bright colors, the embroidery, the silks and velvets—couldn’t be risked on something like an outing in the woods, had to be saved for special occasions.

      “I dressed this morning with kidnapping in mind,” she said lightly, and he smiled, brief and tight.

      “I’ll need your seal ring,” he said, holding out a hand expectantly.

      “Whatever for?”

      “Proof we have you. We’ll stamp the seal on the ransom note.”

      One man left, with the ransom note and the ring. Another had retreated some distance into the woods, and seemed to be consulting a map.

      Eloise glanced at the other man still here—a boy, really. He couldn’t be yet twenty. Too young, she thought, to be a dangerous criminal.

      Of course, Joel had been far younger.

      She had to stop thinking of him. Thinking of him had already gotten her kidnapped—she’d never have gone out like this if his name hadn’t followed her in whispers for days now.

      Ten years, and he was still causing trouble.

      She spotted a downed tree and went to sit on it—she didn’t like to appear weak, but her ankle was paining her. The masked man’s eyes followed her closely, but he didn’t otherwise react.

      He was very calm, very confident. Likely he had plenty of experience with this sort of thing.

      The younger man was fidgety, eyes darting wildly. He held her sword awkwardly. If she were ever left alone with him, she might have a chance of escaping.

      She may get such a chance. They were travelling some distance. That was good. The longer it took them to reach their destination, the more chance she would have of getting away.

      Although the next step, after her escape, would prove difficult. Could she make her way back home alone? What if they left the country? What if civil war did break out? She could easily exchange one captor for another.

      She would worry about that when the time came. She couldn’t escape now—there was no sense in getting ahead of herself.

      “He’ll catch up with us when we make camp for the night,” the leader said. It took her a moment to realize he was referring to the man with the ransom note. “It’s many hours yet to our meeting place.”

      He urged Eloise back onto her horse, and she complied, not wanting to be lifted and slung about if she didn’t.

      Tulip was attached by a long rope to one of the other horses, and made no fuss about it. She was a very compliant horse, which was, along with her age, why she remained in the royal stables that had been mostly cleared now, the other horses out on the battlefield. Eloise stroked her neck, and turned her injured ankle carefully, painfully, trying to decide whether it was broken or only sprained.

      It was a long ride, hard on an elderly horse who’d already done more galloping that day than she ought to have. Eloise had planned to spoil her thoroughly at the end of their ride.

      The little clearing where they stopped was, to Eloise’s eye, indistinguishable from a dozen other clearings they’d passed. They had never left the woods; there had been no villages, no other people, no particularly notable landmarks. She had been watching carefully for all of these things, for any chance of escape.

      This clearing must be special, though, for they all dismounted and made themselves comfortable. There was a fallen log, and a space that had clearly been used in the past for a fire. The men began unloading the horses, then drove a stake into the ground and tied them to it. Tulip followed the others, and Eloise remained on her back.

      “Coming down, Princess?” the masked man asked.

      She knew she would have to, eventually. But she was not confident she could stand on the ankle, and didn’t want to collapse or cry out in front of them.

      The youngest man stepped forward. He was tall and gangly, with a curly head of light brown hair and a friendly face.

      “I can help you dismount,” he offered, and she accepted.

      Fire raced up her leg as soon as she put weight on the ankle. She clung, embarrassingly, to the boy for a moment, until the first shock of the pain passed, and she could stumble a few feet to sit on the fallen log.

      The boy hovered for a moment, until the leader called, “Chris! Did you pack this bag?”

      “I did.”

      “Then come unpack it; it’s a disaster. I need the maps.”

      It was not yet terribly late in the day. The men went about their business, or two of them at a time did, while the third watched her. She didn’t move. Now would be a foolish moment for an escape attempt, in a terrain they clearly knew well, when she could scarcely walk.

      The sun had just set when the fourth man rejoined them. He and the leader went deeper into the woods, out of her hearing, with the boy—Chris—trailing behind. He had started a fire not long ago.

      (The smoke would draw no attention, or no attention that was helpful to her. The countryside was rife with refugees and deserters.)

      The last man remained, still watching her.

      She studied him carefully. He was darker than the leader, with dark, short cropped hair. Older than the other two men, at least—she could not guess at the masked man’s age. He might be Ibanari as well, but she thought it more likely he was from across the sea. It would be easier to tell when he had spoken more; Ibanari accents and across-the-sea accents were quite different.

      “We’d best check that ankle,” he said, after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence. She couldn’t quite place the accent. Not quite like the leader’s, but not like her brother-in-law’s, either.

      “It’s fine.”

      “It should have been checked hours ago.”

      “It’s fine,” she repeated.

      “It’s not fine, and hiding it away because you don’t want me to touch you won’t make it better.”

      “Forgive me for not wanting medical care from my kidnapper.”

      “I’m half a doctor, if it helps.”

      “It does not,” Eloise said, unsure what half a doctor even meant.

      “Princess. We’ve a long way to go yet, and you needn’t spend the whole journey in pain. We don’t want you to—in fact we won’t let you. If I tell them you wouldn’t let me look, they’ll make you, and that will be unpleasant for both of us.”

      “You’re saying your leader will hold me down while you rip off my boot and stocking? To spare me pain?” She didn’t mind the pain. It was certainly preferable to letting any of them touch her, but the combination of pain and touching was—

      The man nodded. “He hates doing this kind of thing. Not that it’ll stop him from slitting your throat if you get annoying, but he’ll feel bad about it later. And he’ll keep you in good health while you’re in his care. Kidnapping’s a tricky business, you know. People tend to get attached, if the ransom takes too long.”

      Eloise didn’t dignify this with a response. She had no intention of becoming attached to any of them.

      “I have bandages, and an ointment that will ease the pain. I’ll touch nothing above the ankle.”

      Clearly there was no way out of this. She began undoing the laces on her boot. Slowly, she eased it off, hissing as she did so. He was right—it should have been wrapped hours ago. At least the boot was tightly fitted. She rolled down her stocking next, bunching it all below her heel so at least she wasn’t completely barefoot. The ankle was swollen and discolored.

      The man approached slowly, and knelt on the ground in front of her. He took the ankle gently in his hands, and twisted it in various ways that did not feel gentle at all. Eloise breathed carefully through her mouth, resisting the urge to make any sound, to express any pain.

      At last, he let her go, but he was back a moment later with the bandages and ointment.

      “Well, it’s not broken, thank the gods. We’ll keep you off it as much as possible—if all goes to plan we should be on the horses for some time.”

      “If all goes to plan, shouldn’t I be safely home, and you safely paid, before much time passes at all?”

      He shrugged. “We ride for our destination. Our men in the capitol wait for the ransom. If they send word it’s received, we bring you back. Until then we keep going. It’s not safe to stay put, here. Your father’s men will be looking for us, likely your fiancé’s men as well. And the battles are constantly moving, the borders always changing. You stay put too long, you’re liable to find yourself on the frontlines.”

      They were still so close to the palace—just one day out by horse. Could the war really be so close?

      He finished applying the ointment, and began wrapping her ankle.

      “Half a doctor?” she asked, to fill the silence, and distract herself from the pain.

      “I was halfway through my training when I had to flee the noose.”

      “What charges?”

      “Murder,” he said, very casually, as he tied off the bandage.

      Eloise pulled herself hastily away.

      “Pull your stocking back up, and see if you can get the boot back on over that.”

      She could, though it required loosening the laces significantly.

      “Good. We’ll check it again tomorrow.” He glanced back into the forest, where the others had disappeared to. “They should be back by now. Can I trust you not to run blindly into a dark forest if I turn my back on you to dig through our food pack?”

      She nodded. He found what he was looking for, and began to cook. The uncomfortable silence returned. At last, she decided she would rather make polite conversation with a murderer than just sit there.

      “Are you Ibanari? Or from the continent?”

      “Both,” he said. “I crossed the sea from Geth as a child, but it was Ibanar I fled.”

      “And how did you decide to become a murderer?”

      “He murdered my sister first—it seemed only fair.”

      “Oh.”

      He pulled the food off the fire, and turned away from her to call, “Chris! Fuller! Come get your dinner, or I’ll give your shares to the princess.”

      All three men emerged from the woods shortly after; presumably it was the masked one he hadn’t named. The four of them chatted quietly as they ate, and Eloise ate as well, watching in silence.

      If the battle lines were really so close, escape would be even more difficult than she’d anticipated. And the man had mentioned her fiancé—she’d not even thought of Jeremy all day. She would be the second girl to die after accepting his hand.

      He would come looking for her, of course. And it would end badly for these men if he found her. She knew he had a temper, though she’d never seen it herself.

      Perhaps her best chance was to delay things as much as possible, to give the inevitable search parties more time to find her before they travelled too far afield.

      Her father could not pay a ransom, but he could send an army after her. A small one—most soldiers were off in battle somewhere. But her captors were four, and it wouldn’t take much of an army to defeat them.

      She could try, perhaps, to release their horses or destroy their supplies while they slept.

      It was a foolish idea, she realized, not long after, when three of them laid on the ground around the fire to sleep, and the fourth sat up to watch her. Of course they would not leave their prize unattended. She moved from her log to the ground, careful of her ankle, and tried to sleep as well. It had been a long day, and the next—likely the next several—would be no better.

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