1 Chapter 1 - Darkness

The night sky was alight with the orange red glow of fire: above the city of Agress the palace burned.

In the darkness a battered, soot covered woman clutched the squirming bundle in her arms and ran. Behind her, the castle burned, the queen and four princes were dead, the king nearly so. Behind her came the sounds of battle as the knights in residence and the servants battled the enemy who had snuck in under the guise of a traveling fair. Agress had fallen, the Queen's brother Mathias had killed and burned them all.

It had been a terrible day, Freida panted as she kept moving: as a servant most nobility failed to notice her but she'd heard Mathias' demands of his sister increase. A year ago, he'd demanded she appoint him lands and titles, then it was to be named Regent if anything happened to both herself and the King: Queen Estiera had declined every demand. The morning had dawned with Mathias' arrival, flanked with two hundred mercenaries. Freida shivered in the evening light: the children were dead; all save the littlest princess.

"Freida," the queen had sobbed, blood running down the side of her face, her blood hair matted with it, "Take her Freida, in the tunnels." The queen pressed a basket into the maid's arms, "Get her away, keep her safe."

Freida had nodded once and raced down the hall to a passage hidden behind a tapestry. With one last glance at the queen she fled into the darkness.

The king and queen had not been surprised by the assault on the palace. The Queen's brother Mathias was not a kind man, his visits had grown more frequent and more demanding: Freida knew because a servant was invisible to a man like Mathias and he didn't hesitate to make his demands of his sister in front of her. First were the demands of money for him to pay off his gambling debts and to outfit his army, then demands to be granted lands and titles, and then finally demands to be named Heir since the oldest prince was only six years old. The King had declined them all. Mathias' anger had grown with each denial.

Her brother's desperation had frightened the queen. Mathias had begged and threatened and sobbed. When he'd returned this time: it was with his army at his back but only a few of the resident knights had been at the palace: the city and palace guards had been cut down by the mercenaries and desperate men Mathias had hired. They had not stood a chance against the invaders.

Freida did not need a torch in the tunnels, she had grown up a servant in the palace and was accustomed to the twists and turns of the pathway as it traveled down under the palace. Beyond the dungeons it converged with the main tunnel: Freida followed it to the right and kept travelling, pausing only briefly to rest her arms or legs, knowing it was only going to be a matter of time before someone found the tunnels and followed them.

Two hours after entering the tunnels, Freida hesitated in the entry, searching the darkness for signs of anyone: friendly or enemy. She listened as mice scampered through the fall leaves and owls hooted in the distance. She settled the basket down near the mouth of the cave and waited, listening, watching. After a time, she felt her way to the north wall of the cave and felt around for the packs she knew she would find there. The plan had been to evacuate all the royal children: for a contingent of palace guards and several of the nursemaids to go into hiding after the most recent threats, and so they had prepared.

Her hand found the packs: fifteen in total. A silent tear rolled down her dusty, soot streaked face. It didn't matter which she took: each of the bigger packs held provisions enough for one adult and one child: food and water, a riding cloak and more. There had been concern that they may need to separate to keep the children safe. The pack was heavy, but Freida knew she would be grateful for it. Opening the top clasp, she pulled out a cloak and fastened it around her neck.

The little princess started to fuss and hearing the echo of her soft noises Freida realized how lucky she had been that the babe had not squalled as they had traveled through the tunnels.

"Hush now, sweet one," Freida crooned and jostled the basket the queen had shoved at her. Freida was a nursemaid, and she knew the babe would get louder if she did not determine why she was fussing. She smiled gratefully as she lifted the little girl out of the basket, feeling extra swaddling and two skeins of goats' milk. The swaddling wrapped around the princess was wet and smelled like urine. Fumbling in the dark Freida changed her and using a clean piece of cotton she soaked it in goats' milk and encouraged the little one to take it into her mouth. Soon she was suckling on the cloth, drinking the milk.

Fed and cleaned, Freida wrapped the princess back into the basket, picked up the pack and started to walk into the dark. She didn't dare to stay any longer.

The forest was less familiar to Freida than the tunnels had been. In the darkness every shadow and noise was Mathias finding her, every root caught at her feet, every bramble tore at her dress. She never stopped, despite her fear and exhaustion: she couldn't risk Mathias' people finding her. It was the babe who brought her to a halt, fussing as the sun woke her and she was hungry again. Freida fed the princess and remembered the story and the plan, she only hoped that she was not too late, that the caravan had not left the area with the threat from Mathias. She had to make it to the Gaia River, the caravan would travel all across the land, she could travel or part company any time she wished. It would be safer for them both.

She ate an apple as she gathered up the pack and the basket and began to walk again. Having grown up in the palace, Freida knew very little about the forest, all she could do was hope that she had kept traveling in the right direction. She worried that if she came across a roadway too soon that Mathias' army would be watching it, so she determined to stay in the woods as long as she could.

Freida had served the crown her entire life: her mother had been the King's nursemaid and Freida had worked with her, eventuality being appointed to look after his children. Estiera had been bleeding badly when she'd thrust the squirming princess into Freida's arms. She had escaped through hidden passages in the palace walls and a cavern below the dungeons. She didn't know if Mathias would kill his own sister: the entire royal family could be dead.

"What do we have here?" a man's voice came from behind Freida in the trees, drawing near, "Get on with you, you are a terrible bandit if you get caught."

Freida rose up, keeping herself between the man and the basket, "I am not a bandit," she told him, "I seek the Caravan Master."

"Do ye now," a second man spoke from a different direction than the first and Freida wondered frantically if she was surrounded. "An' what would a pretty lass as yerself be seeking the Caravan Master fer? Ye ain't look like yer a merchant."

Freida squared her shoulders, "My business is with the Caravan Master," she told him, "See me to him."

The first man chuckled, "You have a spirit, miss," he observed her for a minute, "Come along then, bring your things, Master Devon is in the camp."

Freida hesitated, "Is your friend going to kill me as soon as my back is turned?" she asked, whispering.

"Nay, miss," the first man laughed, "Tobias, come over here and set the lady at ease."

Tobais was not what Freida expected when he drew near: he was well dressed and armed with a short sword, "It was more fun to make her think I was a vagabond." His uniform was crisp, in the colors of green and white with a large oak tree, "Tobais the third of Freisen, at your service, my lady, my uncle was Sir Tobais the first, known hereabouts for his marksmanship and skill with a sword, he was the King's champion when he was a younger man."

"I am Mistress Freida, just a seamstress from Agress," she told them. Freida knew the name immediately upon hearing it, having grown up in the palace meant knowing who the King's Champions were, as much as who the nobility was. She took comfort knowing the young man's heritage. She gathered her things and followed the men into the camp. They immediately hailed Master Devon.

Master Devon was a short man, and plump. He used a quarterstaff to lean on, treating it like a cane but Freida had seen enough men train with the long weapons to know what they were. "Mistress Freida," the man greeted her, "Tobais and Grant say you have come in search of me, but they do not say why." He motioned her to a stump of wood that had been drawn up near one of the wagons, "What can I do for you?"

Freida sat, setting her pack against the wagon wheel and the basket near her feet. "Master Devon," she began, reciting the story she had practiced in her mind during her hike through the tunnels, "I am the youngest sister to a brother who was recently widowed. My fool brother was killed in the uprising, leaving his daughter an orphan. I would take my niece and travel away from Agress to start over in a town where my brother's debtors will not seek to find me or the child. I seek passage with your caravan." She plunged on when he did not stop her, "I have very little coin, but I am a fair seamstress, I can do mending and stitching along the way to earn our passage."

Caravan Master Devon stared at her, wondering how much coin he could charge her for fare and what her trade was worth. The man he called Grant spoke up, "We do have that canvas cover that is badly torn from the wind two days ago, Devon," Devon scowled at him, "And that textile merchant could probably put her to use stitching up the pre-made shirts he's thinking to sell in Gaos."

"That would be wonderful!" Freida exclaimed, then settled, "That is if it is alright with you Caravan Master?" She'd had no idea how she would pay for fare with the Caravan.

"You'll do all the Caravan mending; repair the canvas and we'll see when we reach the first village if you have earned the right to travel further." Devon scowled at Grant, "Find her space amongst the carts for her things and show her the canvas, we'll break camp in two hours."

Freida nodded and followed Grant. It wasn't a large caravan, but it was large enough to hide a woman and a baby. Grant showed her to the third cart from where the Caravan Master had met them, the canvas was folded up near the front, "You can ride here," he told her, "most of the others are men, I'm sure you would want some privacy. We eat breakfast together before we travel, then take a short break around noon and again at dinner.

Exhausted and grateful, Freida climbed into the wagon, settled the princess' basket and went to sleep.

It had only taken Freida a week to mend the canvas. Devon had let her remain in the wagon as they travelled so that she could watch over the babe—if he'd noticed some of the men leering at her, he didn't mention it, but she was grateful. Tobias and Grant became her champions, keeping the other men away.

Devon had let her remain after they had reached the first village, her skills as a seamstress earning her way with the caravan. He also seemed to realize there was more to her story, but he never pried: for the most part she was left alone in the wagon with the princess.

Things changed four months into the journey: they were attacked as they roused for the day. Bandits converged upon the wagons and killed many. They didn't notice the sleeping baby when they stole away with the horses and goods, leaving the wagon master and his people for dead.