Chapter 13

Prince Orin woke at first light to find only the cook awake. He was in the process of kicking one of his servants into consciousness. He’d already laid out an array of fresh fruit and was shoving the servant towards the rolls. The cook bowed low, forcing the head of the sleepy servant down as well when he approached. Iber smiled and took some of the fruit.
“Would Your Highness prefer some toast? Jam? Eggs? Bacon? Whatever you wish, I can provide.”
“This is fine, thank you.” Prince Orin watched the cook scurry back and forth, kicking awake the rest of his servants, while reheating the fires and juggling pots back and forth. For a moment he regretted his words to Brother Valdin the night before about leaving the wagon behind. The chef and servants hadn’t volunteered to come along, but they were trying their best to please him.
Orin turned to survey the camp. None of the noblemen stirred. They slept soundly with their blankets over their heads or tucked warmly into their tents. The chill in the air bit into Orin’s lungs. It numbed his fingers, but sharpened his mind.
Hricks sat up and immediately reached for his parchment. Even half awake he was eager to complete his task. Iber approached and began to roll up his own bedroll.
“I can do that, Your Highness.” Hricks scrambled to his feet.
“I’m already done. Would you like to pack the horses?” Hrick’s eyes brightened. He quickly rolled up his own bedding, grabbed an armful of their belongings, and scurried off to where the horses were corralled.
Prince Orin could begin to smell the coffee tinting the air, followed by bacon and toasting bread. There was something else, too, a bit fainter, like the smell of eggs left to spoil.
Hricks returned for a second load, and Prince Orin grabbed the rest. He followed along after Hricks, who picked his way through the sleeping noblemen and their squires. Together they packed the bags and saddled the horses. When Orin swung up onto Mary, Hricks turned to look at the courtiers.
“Aren’t we going to wait?”
“This is my quest, and if they can’t keep up…” Prince Orin let his sentence trail off. The cook, who had noticed the two of them on their horses, finally realized they were leaving. He grabbed a large pan and a spoon and began to bang them together in a clamor that left most of the courtiers standing in their nightclothes, reaching for their swords.
Prince Orin turned away from the yelling with a sigh. He picked a direction through the trees and the two followed it without conversation. The noblemen would have to catch up in their own time. As the din behind them quieted, Orin actually began to enjoy the serenity of the forest. It was calm, in a way that Capital City never was. There was noise yes, but it seemed to be just the different sections of the same song; the sound of the branches dancing in the sky and the fallen leaves skirting across the ground, the birds chattered back and forth. Even the clip clop of the horses participated in the symphony of sounds.
It only took fifteen minutes for the first wave of courtiers to catch up. They were a pitiable sight. Hair stuck out in all directions, and their usually immaculate jackets were wrinkled and had leaves and twigs sticking out at odd angles. Some were quickly shoving food into their mouths as they rode.
“Your Highness,” one of them finally spoke. “Perhaps we should wait for the others.”
Prince Orin summoned the most regal glare he could. “A prince does not wait upon courtiers, the courtiers wait upon the prince.” He spurred Mary into picking up the pace. They would either get tired of this routine and go home, or—
“Look, Your Highness, there’s a cave. I shall go explore it for you.”
“No, I shall explore it for you,” a second courtier chimed in.
“Ha! I’m already off my horse.”
“Well I already have my sword out.”
Orin took a deep breath and counted to three. “It’s my quest. Shouldn’t I be the one to explore the cave?” The noblemen paid little heed. They were shoving themselves to go first. In one big mass of pushing, they entered the small cave.
The smell of rotten eggs suddenly increased ten fold. Prince Iber grimaced as it filled his nose and coated his tongue. Hricks brought his sleeve up to his nose, but it seemed to do little good.
A shrill girlish scream came from the cave, followed by four identical ones in unison. A flurry of lordlings spouted from the mouth, scattering like hens being chased by a fox. They ran for their horses, which were unfortunately spooked by the shrieks of their masters. Some were well behaved enough to stand their ground to be mounted. Two of them headed off into the woods, being chased by their frantic riders.
“Dragons!” Hricks shouted, excitedly reaching again for his quill. “Dragons?” Reality kicked in and he put both hands on the reigns of his horse.
Prince Orin drew his sword as the dragons came piling out of the cave. The rush of blood warmed him from his toes to his fingers, but the sudden realization that, while he might be able to handle a dragon or two… possibly three by himself, the other men had disappeared into the forest. Hricks, a brother, carried no sword.
And there were a lot more than three dragons.
“Maybe we should…” Hricks started.
“Yeah, we should.” Orin spurred Mary into action. It didn’t take much for her to be zipping as quickly through the trees as she could. She didn’t like dragons any more than he did. Branches whipped his face as he tried to keep Mary from an all out panic of a run. He turned to make sure Hricks was behind him. Stopping Mary might have proved impossible if the brother wasn’t following, but Orin never got a clear glance. Mary swung close to a tree and a low hanging branch caught Orin straight in the back and knocked him down into a spiral of darkness and stars.