Illustration by Romeo Esparrago
Sir Lochlan Mayes’s breaths were coming hard as he bent over in the stifling heat scorching the city streets of Goldenshore. It had been especially hot this summer on the coast of the Southern Sea, and today was no different. Lochlan put his hands on his knees, watching the sweat drip off of the tip of his nose onto the cobblestone below. He grimaced and looked up just in time to see the princess turn the corner onto another street.
“Sorcha!” he called out as he started after her again.
As Lochlan rounded the corner he could see the young princess many paces ahead, dodging between the carts and wagons filtering through the street. Cursing under his breath, he continued after her. He could see the city folk out of the corner of his eyes, laughing and pointing with amused smiles. It was an utter embarrassment. Lochlan was a revered knight who had commanded armies in the Great War. And here he was chasing a small girl, who at twelve summers was just fast enough to elude his aging strides.
“Sorcha, stop this instant!” he yelled again. “Your father will hear of this!”
He knew that was a lie. If there was one person in the whole kingdom of Andara that Lochlan didn’t want to anger, it was King Marcas Goldenshore. He would have Lochlan’s head for this if anything ill should befall his only daughter. The daughter I was sworn to protect, Lochlan thought as he barreled out into a street crossing.
The scream of a horse drew Lochlan’s attention away from the princess. He turned his head just in time to see a rearing mare kick its front hoof into his shoulder. He fell hard onto the street and rolled over just as the wagon that the horse was pulling rolled over his ankle. Lochlan let out a scream of his own as he heard his ankle crunch under the weight of the wagon. Without a word of worry the man leading the wagon quickly snapped the reigns and was off again, leaving Lochlan in the street, grasping at his already swelling ankle.
“Solton curse you,” Lochlan said between gritted teeth, evoking the wrath of the king of gods. He pushed himself to his feet, remembering the princess. But one step later he fell again. Wincing, he dragged himself to the other side of the street and set himself against the Copper Mug, a tavern frequented by the nobles of Goldenshore.
“You there,” Lochlan called out to a youth walking the street. The boy gave Lochlan a dismissive look and kept on his way.
“Stop this instant, boy!” Lochlan called. “In the name of Marcas Goldenshore, your king, you will come here this instant.”
The boy stopped and turned to regard Lochlan, but did not come closer. The lad couldn’t have been more than fourteen summers, if Lochlan had to guess. The light brown hair coming out of his worn leather cap hung just past the shoulders of his tattered tunic. He looked like a beggar, which was odd to Lochlan. Most beggars didn’t come to this part of the city.
“What do you want?” the boy asked impatiently.
“I need your help,” Lochlan replied.
“Can’t say I’m really in the helpin’ mood, mister.”
“Your king needs your help, boy.”
His light-blue eyes narrowed. “Can’t really say that changes my mind much.”
“Don’t make me call the city watch after you,” Lochlan threatened, wincing again at the pulsing pain in his ankle.
“I’ve escaped the city watch plenty of times. Go ahead and call them. Besides, what’s in it for me if I help you?”
Lochlan looked down the street, knowing the princess was getting further away. He wiped the sweat from his brow.
“One gold piece,” Lochlan said after a moment.
“Five gold pieces,” the boy replied instantly.
“Five golds!” Lochlan stammered. “You must be mad! Two golds. No more.”
“Four golds.”
“Two,” Lochlan reaffirmed sternly.
“Three.”
“For Solton’s sake, boy, I’ll give you two golds to help me and that is all.”
The boy looked Lochlan over for a few moments.
“How do I know you’re good for it?” he asked.
Lochlan sighed. “I’m a knight in the Princess’s Guard. My word is my honor.”
“I’ve seen knights do bad things before. Most I’ve seen don’t have any honor.”
“Very well, boy. Three golds. Three golds if you help me.”
“Swear on your father’s grave,” the boy said.
“My father still lives, but I’ll swear on my mother’s.”
“Say it.”
“I swear on my mother’s grave that I will give you three golds if you help me.”
“Help you with what?” the boy asked.
“I’m chasing a girl through the city. She is very important to me, and if anything ill should happen to her, I’d be in a very uncompromising position.”
“Uncompromising?”
“Very bad things would happen to me.”
“And it’s worth three golds to you?”
“Yes. Now will you help me?”
“Where is this girl?” the boy asked.
“The last I saw she was running down that street,” Lochlan replied pointing. “She has long, blonde hair. It comes down to the middle of her back. She’s wearing a light-green dress that matches her eyes. I need you to find her and bring her back to the castle somehow. If you have to ask the city watch to pick her up and drag her back to the castle, then so be it. Tell them that Sir Lochlan Mayes has given his permission to do so. They will help you.”
“I will find this girl for you,” the boy answered confidently. “Where can I claim my reward?”
“Come back here to the Copper Mug when you have safely returned her to the castle, and I will give you your three golds. Now be off! She is running for the city gates, I have no doubt.”
The boy started up the street. Lochlan watched him go for a moment before he reached down to his ankle. It was broken. There was no doubt about that. He grimaced as he touched it through his boot. Somehow he was going to have to get back to the castle. From there he could tell the other men in Sorcha’s guard she had escaped again and set them out to find her. He knew the young boy wouldn’t be able to bring Sorcha back, but at least he might be able to divert her long enough for his men to find her. Lochlan called out to the next wagon that passed. He would need a ride back to the castle.
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