Good gumdrops that was some masterfully written combat!

@Fireblade, "Masterfully" is quite strong, but thanks!

The flaming swordy is correct, your writing is very sophisticated compared to most I’ve read

Triumphant tolerating turnip-greens! That was quite good. I like Fort more than ever now, and I'm really curious to see how you will bring all this together. Wonderful job Dragon!

Thank you!
Bringing it all together . . . heh 😂
I totally have a solid and cohesive plan for this story.

@Dragon Was that sarcasm?

That depends on whether you think I'm organised or not 😂

depends, do you sort your lego by drawers or sets ?

That would depend on whether or not I have LEGO.

@Dragon Uh, I believe it is spelled "Organized"... 😂

she's Australian
North Americans are the main ones who use "organize"

I'm none of those
WHAT DO I DOOOOOOOOOO ?

You would probably use organise, if you do not live in North America.

oh well, dilemma solved

@Greeny, 😂 thought you could catch me, didn't you? 😂

@Dragon Yeah... well... oh well XD

@Greeny, Although I would not be surprised if I misspelled it.

CHAPTER X
Betrayal

Fort figured it would take young Mitchum about half an hour to free himself. Running down the corridor, he searched every doorway for an exit. His blade was drawn and he kept his ears open for any sound.

Footsteps echoed down the hall and Fort paused, sheathing his sword and pulling his hood tight over his face.

“Ay, what’s wrong?” the guard asked as he came into the torchlight.

Fort staggered. “Ain’t well,” he said, imitating the vocabulary of the guards behind. “Need air, fresh air.” He made a horrible sound in his throat.

“What’s your name again, soldier?” the guard asked, steadying Fort.

“Mitchum.”

“The new junior? I’ve heard about you. Come along, kid.”

Fort followed the guard, staggering and stumbling along the corridor. After a short walk, the guard made a right turn down another passage, this one with windows. They walked into a laundry area and the guard indicated an open door.

“Garden out there. Come in if you feel better. If you don’t, go find the doc.”

“Thanks,” Fort practically ran to the door, gagging and making the worst noises he could until he was certain the guard had left. Then he stood and looked around.

The garden was about half an acre, filled with clothes-lines, vegetables and even a chicken coop tucked away in a corner. The whole thing was surrounded by a twelve-foot wall. No close trees. But there was a door.

Fort strode down the cobbled path and tried the door. It was locked. Then he ran to the chicken coop, a large building about six feet tall. Fort yanked a barrel beside the wall, clambered onto the chicken coop roof (giving some hens heart attacks in the process) and then jumped to the top of the wall. Then it was a simple process to drop into the alley and race away.

The sun approached midday in a cloudless sky. Fort made his swift way towards the palace.

Would Niger still be there? Of course, they didn’t have to make Brimnston for a few more days, he was sure. Niger wouldn’t have left without him.

It took several hours to finally reach the palace. Of course, you could see it, towering above every other building but the narrow twists of street and alley made navigating a nightmare to Fort.

The soldiers on guard looked strangely at Fort as he walked under the portcullis. Fort smiled to himself, he knew his clothes and hair were a mess. These soldiers would live.

The courtyard felt strangely quiet. Fort glanced around, then ran to where the stables were.

Inside it was dark and smelt of horses. Fort called for the steed who had carried him across the plains. No answer. Worried, Fort checked every stall. No, neither his nor Niger’s horse was here. Their gear was gone as well.

Not a little confused, Fort ran back to the courtyard and entered the palace itself. Before he could do anything, Danith popped up beside him.

“Captain Forten, you are back?”

“Back?” Fort asked. “Where have I been? Where is Niger, and the horses?”

The steward was completely proper when he said, “Sir, Captain Niger and King Dracon have left for the Southern Realm. You left a note saying you were on your way to Brimnston. Your horse and your gear left when you did.”

“So they’re gone,” Fort said flatly.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Danith replied. “Perhaps you can catch them up? Anyway, I have duties to attend to, you are welcome to stay here. Just contact a servant.”

“Thank you.” Fort suddenly felt tired, no, exhausted. He tramped out into the courtyard. The sky was grey, a storm was coming. He knew he didn’t want to stay at the palace so he found a respectable-looking inn and paid for a room using the emergency money he always stashed in his boot.

Everything ached, and not just his bruises from his fight with Mitchum. There was foul play at work here and not just his kidnapping. Why had Niger not investigated the note? Surely he ought to have known Fort would never just leave.

Outside, rain began to fall.

Several days later the rain met the companions. It soaked them, adding one more misery to their list of woes. Armica trudged bravely on, Dafydd on her back. Rhion led the pony with a weary Marie at his side.

Keeping track of the days had been difficult but Armica still believed they would reach Brimnston in time. Today was the last of their three-day guard. Fort and Niger would be there.

“You ride, Marie, we’re almost there.”

Armica turned to watch Rhion hoist Marie on Cap’s sturdy back. Once more she thanked whatever power had sent Rhion to her. She could never have come this far without him.

“How’re you holding up, Armica?” Rhion asked. Water dripped off his raised hood in a curtain in front of his face.

“I was better before the rain started,” Armica replied with a shrug. Then she smiled. “But we’ve only a few miles left! Just think, tonight a hot bath, a warm bed and some fiery fragrant feed!”

Rhion laughed. “I’d prefer some sizzling succulent snacks if it’s all the same to you.”

“Get us there before nightfall and you can have a beautifully barbecued bite-to-eat.” Armica faced forward again into the misty rain.

A light fog descended about mid-afternoon. The air grew cold. The wind blew strips of mist around the companions like clammy fingers feeling them.

“Don’t like this, Miss Armica,” Marie said with Dafydd nodding. “I feel like something’s out there, watching us.”

“I’d be surprised if they could see anything in this fog,” Armica replied.

Rhion had walked ahead to the ridge of the next hill. Armica strained to see him in the mist. Suddenly he came bounding back.

“We made it!” he called joyfully. “Brimnston’s at the bottom of the next valley. Come on, lad and lasses! We’re almost there!”

His words but new heart in the companions. They struggled up the last hill and slid happily down to the distant lights of Brimnston, ghostly in the gloom.

As they walked through the main street, Armica saw the sign of the inn where she, Fort and Niger had promised to meet. She was still in time, and anyway, they would not have started in such a fog.

Leaving Rhion to watch the children, she entered the inn, feeling the blast of stuffy heat. The taproom was empty. A thin, nasty-looking innkeeper lounged at the bar, smoking a pipe. He glanced up at Armica’s entrance.

“Excuse me,” Armica said, walking boldly up to stand before him. “I am looking for two of your guests.”

“Wot guests?” the innkeeper interrupted. “No guests. Just village folk and none on a day likes of this.” He looked suspiciously at her. “Why? Who are ye?”

“Are you sure?” Armica started but the innkeeper cut her off.

“Wot ye mean, am I sure? Course I’m sure! I run the joint, don’t I? Think I’d know if guests were staying.”

“Stop interrupting me!” Armica snapped. “I’m looking for two tall men, one dressed in black and the other brown. They should have arrived two days ago. My name is Armica of Tref-Afon.”

“Told you, no guests staying right now,” the innkeeper replied smugly.

Armica slapped several coins on the table.

“Well, come to think of it,” the innkeeper said, gathering up the coins. “I do recall a man coming through, tall and black, he was. Scary. He was captaining a regiment travelling with the King down south. Stopped here for a few days. Left yesterday.”

Armica stepped back, then leaned forward, anxiously hoping. “Were there any messages for me? What about a tall man, dressed in brown? Friendly chap?”

“Never saw him. No messages.”

“But they were supposed to wait!” Armica cried. “Niger can’t have just left! He promised! He promised to wait for me!”

The innkeeper shrugged. “If that’s all ye want, miss . . . ?”

“Thanks.”

Armica fought a losing battle against tears as she left the inn. Fortunately, the rain and the fog kept falling to hide them.

End of Chapter X

Epic chapter!

Oooo... very nice, more montage less action, still very interesting!