Beloved,
The baron, my husband, is dead. I am fighting to secure these lands and title in my own right as his widow. If you still feel as you once did, come to me now. I have need of you and your sword both.
With all my love,
Myrtle, Baroness Fireridge
*
Eryk folded up the well-worn letter and tucked it away in his jerkin. Six months ago Baron Balmont of Cliffside had invited him to swear fealty and become one of Balmont's knights. For the bastard son of the hated Black Baron it was a chance to belong and a dream come true. He accepted the lord's invitation without a moment's hesitation. Three weeks later, Myrtle's letter had reached him.
Three weeks.
From the tower, a bell rang the time. He stood and stretched, forcing his thoughts to more productive trails. He had a patrol to run. The border with the Cirisian Empire might be quiet, but it still needed watching.
A short time later, he and his detachment of men at arms rode out from the castle. One of several fortifications on the Baron's lands, High Range Castle overlooked one of the few roads to cut through the mountains between the Westerlands and the Empire. The mountains were the main protection for the warring minor lords of the Westerlands against the ever-expanding Empire. The mountains -and the Empire's knowledge that if attacked those feuding lords would band together until the intruder was driven out.
The trade caravan Eryk saw passing by as they exited the gates was the most common traffic on the road. Still they guarded, just in case.
The patrol was simple routine. When they stopped halfway through their circuit to water the horses, Eryk set sentries more by habit than need. Or so he thought.
Eryk was checking his saddle's girth when he heard the first of several strange "thuds". He whirled around, to see the men of his detachment falling off their horses without a sound. He had barely taken a step toward them when exhaustion swept over him, and the world went black.
Eryk woke to the movement of a horse under him. He came awake in an instant. His hands were tied to the saddle in front of him and there was a blindfold over his eyes. Straining his ears, he heard the quiet clomping of horses walking a forest trail. Too few horses. "Where are my men?" His voice was hoarse with disuse.
There was a long moment of silence, then, "Told you he'd beent alright. Long sleep never hurt none." The voice was rough with the accent of a mountain peasant and full of good cheer. Eryk growled and pulled at the rope binding his hands. "No need to get excited. We left your men sleeping like babes. Even tethered the horses so theys wouldn't get stepped on."
Eryk started to ask how knew he was being told the truth, but stopped himself. Even if they were lying, there was nothing he could do until he was able to escape.
They rode through the afternoon and made camp in the evening. His guards were careful, and never gave him opportunity to get free. Nor did they answer any questions.
For three days and two long nights, he endured. By the middle of the first full day, he knew they had to have left Balmont's land behind, but he no clue where they were. The long ride gave him plenty of time to think.
Magic was rare - very rare. He had only even heard of three mages in the Westerlands, but the way he and his men had collapsed had to be a spell. Someone very powerful or very rich had sent these men to capture him. There was no way this was an attack o the Baron. He didn't know enough of the Baron's secrets to be worth interrogating.
Years ago, the Black Baron had terrorized the northern Baronies. Even though he had been killed over two decades ago, there were still people who hated, and feared him. Eryk had spent a life time fighting to be accepted as himself and not the Black Baron's child. Might someone have decided that with the father dead, they would have to take their revenge on the son?
It was not a comforting thought.
The third night they didn't stop, but pushed on. Eyrk couldn't tell exactly the sun set, but shortly after the frogs started singing, the horses moved onto a cobblestone road. A few hours later they passed through a guarded check point.
Soon after, the horse under him stopped, and his captors pulled him from the saddle. They led him into a building, and a tired voice told them to bring him upstairs.
Climbing those stairs, blind and with his hands bound, was slow and nasty. But they allowed him to move as best he could, rather than dragging him or carrying him. He was grateful for the small dignity.
A hand on his elbow guided him through the second floor until they stopped in a carpeted room that smelled of wood polish.
"You hain't caused us trouble yet, sir. That change if I untie you?"
Unarmed against three men with swords, and god only knew how many guards stationed about this place, "I don't think I'm ready to commit suicide today," Eryk replied. He felt a tug at his wrists, and then the ropes fell to the floor.
"I'm told the lady's spelled the room to keep you here. She don't throw around magery much, but when she does it usually works."
There was nothing to say to that so Eryk didn't reply. A few moments later he heard a door close behind him.
He reached up and pulled the blindfold off. The room was faintly lit by a single candle, yet even that was painful to eyes that had been blind for days. Gently chafing wrists that had been rubbed raw, he tried to get a feel for where he was.
A wooden bed with a sturdy post at each corner dominated the room. It was covered with thick blankets, and larger than some wagons. The only other furniture was a small table and single chair. There was carpet underfoot, and while only one candle was lit, he could see two oil lamps hanging on the walls. All in all it was a room that wouldn't have been unsuitable for a minor lord.
It was a ridiculous place to stick a captive, and made his revenge theory seem even more ludicrous than it was to begin with.
In the end, it didn't matter. He had to get out of here and back to Baron Balmont. Unsurprisingly, the door was the only way in or out. A few minutes careful listening left him confident that no guard had been left on the door. Apparently they trusted their mage.
He turned the handle, and it moved easily under his hand. The door swung open, and could clearly see the empty hallways beyond. Either the men who brought him here were idiots - in which case he should have been able to escape days ago - or their mage was good enough might as well give up now.
Well, no one ever called him smart. He reached a hand through the door way, prepared to pull back at the first sign of danger.
His eyes rolled up in his head and he collapsed to the floor. Sound asleep.
He woke on the bed, with his hands and feet bound to the bed posts. This was starting to turn into a habit. One he didn't like.
