In Dreams: Red

The Journey Begins

As expected, the camp is bursting with activity. While I had only brought a small handful of good trusted men with me, I noticed my father had once again gone behind my back and sent another twenty to thirty soldiers along behind us. As usual, he must have timed it perfectly so that they would arrive shortly after I left on my “hunting” expedition to avoid my wrath. Tents are going down left and right, gear is being packed away and I see a rather large grouping of men around the central fire. My father always had his men set up in a certain pattern-whatever was most important was guarded within the center of the camp, so I knew immediately where to look for our prisoner. I suddenly realized I was being hailed, and stopped moving to wait for the one calling me.

“My Lady, my Lady!” One of my father's men I did not know by name ran around in front of me, slightly winded. I wonder how long he'd been running around searching for me. “My Lady.” He pauses here to bow. “Reginald and some of the others would like to formally request your presence, quite urgently.”

“Alright, where are they, or how about you just lead on? This place is too busy for me to wander around looking for them. And I'm sure Reggie's undies are in a bind by now.” I respond. The man's eyes twinkle, but he knew better than to speak ill of his superiors.

“Yes, my Lady.” He says again and bows, leading me around the central fire. As we are passing the group surrounding the fire, a single person catches my eye. My dear legendary murderer looks directly at me, a look almost of gratitude still on his face. I pause. He never lowers his eyes or looks away, and his expression confuses me completely. Shouldn't he at least be glaring at me accusingly? Looking away in shame? Be angry? Something?

“My Lady?” The young messenger is still waiting for me and currently looking at me with polite puzzlement.

“Has he said anything?” I ask the messenger, jerking my chin in the direction of the prisoner. I'm sure the news about such a strange incident would spread quickly, and this particular murder would be followed very closely by all, and news spread almost instantly. Everyone loves good gossip.

“Nothing as far as I know, except to ask nicely for some food and water. His guards said he's been very polite.” The messenger tells me. Great, so we have a charming murderer. But it still bothers me that he followed so meekly and was not at least angry. He didn't even struggle when the villagers were yanking him around.

“My Lady, we really should be going unless there is something more important you wish to attend to, in which case I can carry a message back to Sir Reginald.” The messenger says politely, again with a bow. I laugh.

“Why, my delightful and charming little messenger, you do know how to turn a phrase, telling me to hurry, but essentially begging my pardon for doing so. Lead onward then man, we can't keep old uptight Reg waiting forever!” I cackle.

“Yes my Lady, indeed!” He responds with a smile. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the prisoner smiling too, as if he heard every word. I add reading up on shape-shifter legends to my growing mental to-do list. Quite possibly, he did hear every word. I wasn't sure if I should be afraid or awed.

I follow the quick pace set by my messenger turned guide. He leaves me outside one of the few remaining tents and bows his way off, leaving at an even quicker pace that's almost a run. He probably had a dozen other things to get done and I had been holding him up, poor fellow. I brace myself for an inquiry and step into the tent. I guess you could say this was a command center and conference room all rolled into one. A quick count showed nearly all of the men I had brought with me in attendance and gathered loosely around the tent. Reginald, my dear invaluable but uptight and reliable soldier, every tall, olive skinned, dark hair obsessively neat inch of him. Corwin, a bit of a prankster, always good-natured, constantly picking on Reginald, but a fast and steady sword-hand and a very loyal friend. His blond hair, freckles, light colored skin and eyes easily gave him a boyish look that almost told you he was trouble. Ogden, a tall light colored male with brown hair and eyes whom I didn't know quite as well as I'd like to, but had sparred with and knew was excellent with most weapons. Silas, who had seen me grow to adulthood and helped in much of my weapons training. He was like my second father. Or maybe my first. A tall broad, dark skinned man, whose dark close-cropped curly hair had just started greying. He smiled warmly at me when I entered and I felt the corner of my mouth twitch. And last but not least Weylin, my father's man. Though extremely intelligent, I thought of him as nothing more than my father's spy, which causes me to distrust him. He's not really so unpleasant to look at, but because I see him in my mind's eye as a rat, he looks like a rat to me. I can't help it, I'm vindictive like that. I suppose I'm biased. Weylin always had very intelligent points and advice, but I just couldn't get past the feeling he was telling my father my every move. A tumbling of “My Lady”s greet me as I enter the tent. I look to Reginald.

“I am under the impression you summoned me?” I say witheringly, though my mouth twitches as I hold back a smile. You could say I also tend to torment Reg when the chance presents itself. I saw a few hidden smiles as Reginald begins to stumble over an apology.

“I beg your pardon my Lady, if I gave that impression, I never meant-not summon, I told that blasted man to request...” Reginald stammers.

“Oh give it up man, you're sunk by now. Besides, can't you see she's having a joke at your expense?” Corwin grins at Reginald. I'm grinning myself by now and the other men are hiding smiles behind coughs and mumblings. Reginald looks at me somewhat suspiciously, which earns a laugh from me and several of the others. But I do realize there is a more pressing matter at hand, so I sober up quickly enough, though the smile refuses to leave my face.

“What did you need to see me about, my dear friend Reginald?” I ask quietly, trying to sooth his nerves. Reginald is still looking slightly suspicious, but my words seem to placate him slightly.

“First: the dead man's body-did you get permission from his family for us to bear it with us as proof?” Reginald questions.

“Yes, as far as I can tell, his only living relative is his mother, and she is allowing us use of it as proof of the murderer's insanity. However, I did promise her we would return it to her as quickly as possible.” I answer promptly.

Good, the corpse is wrapped and loaded on a horse awaiting our departure. We have plans to be gone as quickly as possible, those of us here and a few others will take the prisoner on horseback, along with my Lady if she wishes to come, and the corpse. The others will follow behind with the remaining supplies. Which brings me to my next question. What of the prisoner? Any news?” Reginald asks.

“I found out only a few details. I wish to keep the most of it under strictest confidence until my father hears of this. He can decide what to do with the information. Now, I trust all of you implicitly, or I would not have had you along with me, but this is a very grave matter and I want all of you to swear an oath to me that this goes no further until my father decides what to do with this knowledge. I stress to you, I would not freely relinquish this information unless it was vitally important in the guarding and transportation of our prisoner. Do I have your word?” I look at each of them in turn. As I do, each man bows his head in approval and murmurs some variation on “Yes, my Lady” solemnly.

“Good. I seem to have made my point. I will say this-our prisoner is very, very dangerous. He may very well be of that legendary line of creatures we know as shape shifters, not a werewolf-don't mistake the two. This man may very well be able to transform himself into any shape he can imagine.” I look them over again, searching for doubt or scorn. A hint of mild disbelief shows in some faces.

“I do not tell you this lightly. You know me-and many of you have known me all my life. We came into this situation believing we would find nothing but drunkard's tales and maybe a wild animal that strayed too close to the village, but I think this time we actually stumbled across something here. I scarcely would have believed it myself, but something I saw out there in the forest tonight changed my mind. I wounded an incredible beast. A beast that disappeared and left behind this man with my blade still stuck in his side. After watching the beast tear apart that man, that corpse, we're taking as evidence.” I look at the men around me, they look uneasy, and stricken by my tale.

“The rest I will save for when we arrive. I will petition my father to allow you to sit in on my recounting of the tale and the other details I have learned. Now, I believe we have a very long and hard night ahead of us? Is there anything else?” I request. Reginald, for once, seems speechless and merely responds with a shake of his head.

“If I may?” Weylin breaks the silence, and I nod my approval. “Please forgive me My Lady, if I speak out of turn, but you must admit, your story is very hard to wrap one's mind around. My Lady sincerely believes this man capable of such feats?” He does not have the look of one being smug just to be smug, but that's how it strikes me anyway.

“That I most certainly do. But I don't expect you to believe it. I just recommend that you do not let your guard down with our ever so polite prisoner, because after seeing what he is capable of, I am not certain I would want to turn my back to him. The next time I turned to face him, I might be staring into the giant razor-tooth filled maw of that monster I saw earlier today in the forest. But by the Gods, Weylin, if you feel comfortable turning you back on something that dangerous, who am I to stop you? How would you like me to inform your wife of your demise? In person, or should I send Father?” Weylin briefly looked as though I had slapped him and regained his composure slowly. The other men merely looked thoughtful.

“Anything else?” I ask patiently. Various head shakes no answer my question. “Ok, Reginald, if everything is ready, let's get our prisoner squared away and be on our way, how about?”

“Yes, my Lady. I hope my Lady doesn't mind, we've prepared your horse and supplies. My Lady's magnificent Red Cloak has been packed away, but can be made ready for her use unless she feels it is too soiled to be used, in which case another suitable cloak can be found.” Reg informs me.

“To save time, just have the red one unpacked and let's be on our way.” I reply as the six of us leave the tent. “Besides, it will do my mother good to see that bright red riding its way home.” I say with a smile. Several of the others who knew of my mother's objections smile as well. While Reginald leads the way towards the horses, Ogden is sent off to the group guarding the prisoner to have him brought to us. I pull Silas aside.

“Silas, you have known me since I was old enough to hold a weapon. You know I'm not one to make up stories or be prone to hysterics. And I know you've been a loyal follower of my father's for far too long to ever dispute his word or any of his family's, but I wanted to stress to you-this man is dangerous. How dangerous to us, I cannot tell at this point, and I suppose only time will tell in future. He has been very calm under our guard to this point in time, let's try to keep our guard on him calm as well, and above all else, keep an eye on his every move. WE have good, no excellent men, but let's keep them from tormenting, taunting, or harassing this man in any way. WE DON'T WANT TO PROVOKE HIM. Keep them calm around him. NO signs of anger, mistrust, abuse or fear. And Silas, I trust you above all others. Make sure someone has their eyes on him AT ALL TIMES.” I stress the last point to me urgently and Silas looks at me with kind receptiveness at first, but his expression gradually changes to one of concern.

“This particular prisoner has you worried, doesn't he? Even though you already captured him once?” He asks with the concern coloring his voice.

“I saw a wound from my blade between his ribs close and heal before my very eyes. Do not mistake his good behavior for a lack of danger.” I tell him seriously. “He could just consider us no threat at all.” Silas looks behind us at the group bringing the prisoner towards us.

“I give you my word, my Lady. He shall be very carefully guarded and cared for. With caution.” Silas responds. At that point, the group of men with the prisoner reaches us, and a mini chaotic whirlwind ensues. The prisoner is placed upon a horse, hands bound in front of him, his legs were free and his saddle had a horn he could grip, but the reins would be taken by one of the guards that led his horse. It was an uncomfortable arrangement for the prisoner, having very little to hold onto and being bound, so we chose a saddle with a taller back to help give him a little more support. The guards would be surrounding him on as many sides as possible in the hopes that he would not make an attempt to break away, flee or fight as we rode.

The corpse had been securely wrapped and tied to a horse, whose reins were tied to my horse, who was patiently waiting to be led into position. My father had been a stickler about this particular beast, a beautiful black animal he insisted I break and train myself, with his and a select few other's help and advice. The hope was he would be loyal only to me, and although he would allow others to tend to him to a certain extent, I had to admit my father had been right. There were times I even swore the animal understood most of what came out of my mouth. I grip the horse's reins and lead the two into our position in the back, behind the prisoner. I notice he is watching the goings-on with something akin to amusement. He even turns to smile at me, which is somewhat disconcerting. I feel my horse side-step nervously. He must have picked up on my unease.

“Easy, Lupus, easy boy.” I mutter at him. The prisoner's smile widens briefly. The other men and their horses are getting into position around the prisoner, Silas is just ahead and to my right, he nods at me and I see him performing a weapons check before mounting. All of my blades are still in position, but I find myself running through the list of them just to be sure. Corwin is in lead position, I hear him calling jokes at the other party members, even me when he asks how the dead weight at the end is doing. Reginald is near the front left-he has first charge of the prisoner's horse. Ogden is in front of Silas, and Weylin is to my left and just ahead. I barely suppress a groan at his position, but he always is near enough to “spy” on me. A couple of other troops are scattered amongst the men, Tryus is one man's name and the other I believe is named Bertold or Berton. I hear a call from Corwin in the front.

“My Lady looks to be having some deep thoughts. Methinks she is thinking of me boys!” He cries, his horse spinning a circle as he rotates to look at me.

“For shame! You dare not speak to our Lady that way you rube!” Raginald looks positively affronted while Ogden suddenly gallops forward, thunks Corwin on the head with the grip of his sword and circles back into his position, with a look of boyish mischief.

“Alright, alright, I give in to your might already! I beg your humblest apologies my Lady, no offense was meant, we all know you have only the chastest of thoughts!” Corwin calls to me.

“Oh but you were right dear Corwin-I was thinking of you!” I respond to catcalls and joking from the men. “And how lovely my blade will look sprouting from your chest.” I finish to even more jeering now aimed at Corwin. Silas shakes his head.

“What a blood-thirsty lot you all are.” He mumbles, loud enough to be heard by us all.

“Yes and especially my Lady the Right Hand!” Corwin yells out, this time to good natured laughter, which intensifies as I execute a courtly curtsy and then climb up onto Lupus. My red cloak is handed up to me and I tie it about my neck and fasten the buttons at the top to hold it in place.

“Is the company ready?” Calls Reginald to mixed cries in the affirmative and I feel my heartbeat increase. “Then let's be on our way!” And with that, we are all off, and the prisoner risks one last look in my direction, and then beyond me to the forest, as if casting his farewells to someone who could not hear..