The Nun and King

Chapter 23

Cold droplets pelt my face as we make our way through the winding forest to the Bulgins. With one hand I tug my hood around me but it does little to relieve the rain. "Well this is about as useless as tits on a bull," I mutter to myself.

"Out of curiosity, how much further do you think it is?" Markus asks loudly next to me. His dark hair sticks to his face and he blinks hard. Lightning strikes somewhere in the distance and his horse rears on it's hind legs in a panic. With a few comforting words he gets the beast to calm down enough to continue.

Channing flanks me on my other side and I look at him, motioning for us to wait. I'd rather not waste any time but I don't want to endanger them any further than I have to. "I'd say another two miles," I answer, wiping my face free of rain water. It's been about forty minutes' since we left and we probably have another half hour before we see any sign of the Bulgin's camp. Another bolt of lightning strikes, this time within view. "Do you wish to turn back?" I ask. With how hard the wind is blowing it's a wonder a branch hasn't fallen down on one of us, let alone being fried to a crisp.

Markus gives his head a quick shake followed by Channing who must have read my lips. "We want to come," he insists.

Giving a small smile, I nod my head and click my teeth urging us forward down the path. After a few minutes I notice that in the mud lay fresh tracks from both men and horses as puddles have not quite filled their depths. My eyes quickly survey the surrounding area for any sign of the scouts, scanning every tree as quickly as I can. A flicker of movement in my peripheral vision causes me to jerk my head to the left and I see an archer step out from behind a mature pine. Channing immediately notchs his own bow in response.

"Shadrach," I say as I recognize his dark features.

"Thomas," he greets, his arrow still trained on me. Six other men then emerge from adjacent trees, all with bows and arrows while scabbards are fastened to their waists.

Markus rests a hand on the hilt of his blade, ready to unsheathe it at any moment. He looks at me side-eyed awaiting for a command.

"Thomas as in the prince?" one of the Bulgin men asks Shadrach. He's slender and has a mask covering the majority of his face, only revealing his pale eyes and the beginning of his nose.

"Aye," Shadrach replies, his gaze still fixed on my own.

"Tell me, your grace," another chimes in, spitting the title as if it were a slur. He's larger than the rest and has a considerable gut hidden beneath his cloak. "How stupid do you have to be not only travel with two saplings such as these as your only protection," he says pointing with his thumb to Channing and Markus, "but to think that you can slip through our borders unnoticed? We already have your brother--now you're just making it easier for us." This earns a round of laughter from his comrades.

Clenching my jaw, I tilt my head slightly. "Is Bulga really that desperate for soldiers that they'll scrounge up any old cow like yourself? I bet you probably can't even swing a sword without getting winded," I counter. "Much less bed your sister-cousin if the rumors ring true." There have been a fair amount of stories about the country of Bulga, the main one being that there are many gray areas on who they choose to bring to their bed chambers and that many are inbred. "Or would it just be his sister?" I ask curiously looking at Markus he smirks.

The heavy man steps forward pulling back his bowstring further. "I'll take an eye for that one, pretty boy," he spits.

Shadrach raises a hand, forcing the man to lower the tip. "Enough Henri. I know you didn't come here to swap insults. What is your business Prince Thomas?"

"It's King Thomas," Markus corrects.

Resting one hand on the horn of my saddle, I wick away more rain from my eyes. "I've come to speak with Lugos. I trust you will escort us if you do not trust us being in your lands?"