To Aylee's surprise, her guard opened the tent door and several young men ambled into the small space. Aylee stood to her feet, pressing herself against the back of the tent.

“What are you doing?” she begged.

“Our leader commanded us to move him to a more comfortable location in which to nurse him.”

“So, to another tent? More spacious? Where?” The entire idea seemed suspect, since Jess had so obviously decided to stop any pretense of caring for her.

“To your home, actually,” one of the men offered, and Aylee stood speechless for a moment, unsure how they could manage such a feat without causing her brother extreme discomfort.

When they carried him outside, she beheld, to her astonishment, a very commodious curricle with abundant space to lay Chester down comfortably. The coach bore plush padding within, and Aylee wondered that such grandeur could prove so readily available to Jess or his men. This was more than a simple noble.

She had almost convinced herself that she had misjudged Jess, that he bore some harmless identity that would allow for his goodness. With the numerous soldiers and the cold expressions, it was hard to hold on to any vestige of that hope. Entering the carriage seemed akin to stepping into her tomb. Still, she could not fight the men, and she would not abandon her brother.

Aylee was lonely and confused, and the refuge of her home – a place where she could always find comfort and open arms – seemed the stuff of fables. Breathing in a steeling breath, she stared out through the bars of the window and said a prayer to Lady Willen’s god, the powerful and good god who could guide her steps.

Early in her carriage journey, Aylee tried to gauge the sun. to determine whether she plodded east or west. If east, then Jess had decided to move Chester and her to an unknown location, perhaps his own holdings. Maybe to a dungeon. If he were not holding her for Malchus, perhaps he imagined that once in his home, Aylee would ease her concern of his sinister character and accept him as a lover. Even in her darkest thoughts, the idea held no appeal. Therefore, she would refuse, and a noble would bring her to court. And she would end imprisoned.

If the carriage headed west, she thought it likely to carry her to Bennigton. The unscrupulous Jess, if he existed, would deliver her to Malchus. At least with that possibility, she felt some hope. The Hembry clan, specifically Everett and Chapman, would raise a commotion until the portreeve moved to free her, if possible. Perhaps they would not succeed, but even knowing they were nearby would grant Aylee courage to keep fighting. She did not look forward to the idea, but it depressed her much less than Jess’s home and indefinite confinement.

The thoughts which assailed her as the carriage crossed the distance, the idea that she might be heading back to her home, a place she had not entered for over two months! If she let herself believe the soldiers, hope bloomed painful and amazing with every familiar swell of the land. The first sight of the marsh tested her resolved to stop her tears.

When she finally considered that she might see her mother, the tears fell against her will. Whatever anyone else decided about Aylee, her mother would always see the truth. As for her father, she might need to restrain him from killing the guard as retribution for her incarceration, but the guard had extended only kindness to her, and she would not allow her father to treat him otherwise. Of course, she would not interfere if her father wanted to pour on his famous Everett Hembry charm and convert the guard to her side. The thought brought her a smile. More than anything, she imagined the prospect of releasing a burden she had not recognized as a weight on her – the weight of loneliness.

If she truly arrived at her parents’ house, Aylee would consult with her father about Jess and all of the conflicting messages she had received about him through his political actions. Even better, she could discuss with her mother her complete bewilderment concerning her own feelings. How could a woman grow to care for and love a man whom she suspected guilty of every heinous act imaginable? Of course, if she actually arrived home, she would be forced to shift all of her beliefs about Jess from the scheming scoundrel to the aggrieved innocent. To send her home would prove the greatest kindness he could ever have bestowed.

The clattering of the door ripped Aylee from a tormented slumber, and her body ached from the continued jolting of the carriage against the uneven earth it traversed. During the journey, the sun had set, and Aylee could make out little from the window save a few lanterns hung in the eaves of low buildings. Her heart battered her ribs as she reached for the hand that her guard, Bruison, offered through the door.

When she finally recognized the truth, it was the voice that revealed it.

“If anyone has upset even one hair on her head,” came the blustering threat, and Everett Hembry shoved Bruison from the carriage entrance to let Aylee, tears sprung anew, fall into his arms. An instant later, Raehan wrapped her arms around them both, and Everett released Aylee with one arm long enough to bring her mother into the circle of his arms. Of course, Raehan and Aylee wept, but even Everett found his face growing red as unexpected drops burst from rarely used wells of tears.

Within a few minutes, Bruison and Everett, plus the servant, had transferred Chester to his own bed, and Aylee sat nursing a hot cup of her mother’s tea, at her mother’s table. She said a quick prayer of thanks to Lady Willen’s god and to Jess, neither of whose identities did she know. Grateful, she considered all of the events of the preceding weeks. Repelling Malchus, not once but three times. Watching her father's business crumble. Living among soldiers and vagabonds for almost two months. Watching those she loved endangered because of her. Seeing the broken face of her brother, scarred and malfunctioning because of her. Most importantly, she considered the man she had determined to hold the most notorious of characters, who – inexplicably – had sent her to her beloved home.

++++++++++++++++

Pacing just outside the walls of Capigan, Malchus Lorne roiled through his band of soldiers, a cloud of violence almost palpable around him. The sun had begun to lighten the night sky, blanketing everything in sight in a dull grey. Every soldier but Kirk stood far beyond their commander's reach. Of all the possibilities he had considered, Malchus had not considered that an invalid would stand up and walk out of his sick bed outside of the notice of a dozen guards and a room full of witnesses. Yet the little Hembry boy had managed the feat with no apparent difficulty. No one had noticed his egress; therefore, no one had interfered.

Now, Malchus needed a new plan, one that took into account both his vengeance against Aylee and his ruler's greater ambitions. Malchus could no longer lure Aylee out by holding her brother captive, but he knew exactly where her family lived, and one Hembry would serve as well as the next for the purpose of coercion. In his current state of mind, he did not care how Kirk and the soldiers retrieved the rest of the Hembry family, just as long as he had them. Honestly, Malchus needed only one alive, and he made sure to communicate the fact to Kirk.

“Too bad she has no grown sisters for me to procure,” Malchus murmured malevolently. “That would punish her most effectively.”

Up until that moment, Malchus had concerned himself more with undermining the reputation of the Duke than with apprehending the noble who defended his sovereign. Now Malchus needed to act immediately if he would arrest whatever fallout would result from the boy's escape. Malchus would have killed the Duke at once, but he did not want to explain to Maximus how completely the plan had been compromised. As it stood, if Malchus could apprehend the noble – perhaps apprehend the boy - then he could assure that Maximus never know of the potential compromise.

Rather than set out in battle formation, as his soldiers usually did, Malchus set them in a sort of net, a network of evenly spaced soldiers who would literally sweep the woods for any sign of the noble and his troops. As soon as they encountered a sign, the soldiers would pass the message to the trumpeter who would sound the alarm and amass the forces into the specific location. He knew he made his individual soldiers more vulnerable by placing them in such a formation, but the individual soldiers mattered little if they could successfully find the enemy's troops. Since he no longer had to worry about wreaking havoc on the towns he passed, he could focus all of his attention on the interfering man and his troops.

Malchus held just enough soldiers to stretch three deep and nearly half a league across when he spaced them several yards apart. The entire area of the forest stretched roughly in a triangle between three major villages, two of which Malchus had recently decimated. Capigan lay east around the midpoint between Bennigton in the west and Lolly in the south, and the distance between the two towns ran roughly five miles. Malchus determined to move along the widest part of the triangle first, heading to Bennigton with Kirk for the first leg and moving across the triangle to Lolly. Progressing in such a fashion, Malchus would head slowly north minimizing the area that his soldiers would need to cover as they moved closer to Glowigham at the apex of the triangle. In so doing, he would cover the larger area at an earlier time when the noble had retained a smaller period in which to plan and mobilize. As the enemy had more time and would prove more prepared, Malchus would have less land to cover and would hold a greater chance of intercepting the troops.

Not waiting for his comrades, Kirk recruited his small band of soldiers and set out for the Hembry home. By the time he reached the outskirts of Bennigton, the larger mass of soldiers had reached only the midpoint between the capital and the small town. Long before the general body of soldiers could have accomplished such a feat, Kirk gazed with satisfaction at the flickering lights in the sizable cottage that housed the Hembry clan. Inside of the hour, the entire family would lie dead or in captivity, and Kirk did not balk for a moment at the acts he must carry out to prove his worth to his commander.

From the opposite direction, Itchy pressed toward his master's destination, determined to reach it as quickly after Jameson as possible. If he arrived many minutes afterward, Jameson and his father would both likely lie dead. As he passed through the town of Bennigton, he noted the guard posted outside of the Hembry home. He could only pray for Aylee's endurance as she waited in insecurity to hear whatever charges Jameson would bring. When Jameson had informed her of her continued incarceration, Itchy had literally fallen a step back, blown there by the vehemence in his master's voice. Of what crime did he imagine her guilty? Her sentence did not bode well for Itchy, either, as Jameson seemed to have wrapped his servant's guilt up with that of Aylee. Well, as long as Jameson lived, Itchy felt certain that all would resolve in short order. His dear friend, Jameson Wilmington, would persist until he found the truth, and he would not enforce injustice.

Inside the Hembry home, Aylee stepped back from an extended embrace by her mother, punctuated by many tears on both sides.

“You will want to know how bravely Chester behaved himself over the past few weeks,” she assured her parents. “He owes his current state to a visit to the palace where he defied the commander of the armies and escaped through a throng of soldiers.”

As if the familiar sounds had drawn him from his slumber, Chester had awakened only a moment after entering his home and trudged into the main room to see his parents. “A slight exaggeration,” he smiled, “but I will tell you all the truer version when I have rested.”

Master Hembry could not have beheld his son with greater pride than he did at that moment, but Mistress Hembry could only fuss over his wound. Aylee seated herself on their settee, exhausted by too many events, as her mother moved to Chester's side.

“He'll be fine, Raehan,” their father chastised. “Give the boy a few minutes to recover from his journey.”

“Fine, he says,” Raehan complained to the baby. “The boy can hardly move the right side of his face and his father says he'll be fine!”

After Mistress Coates had placed a warm cup of tea and a piping hot bowl of stew before Aylee, the Hembry's eldest daughter lowered her chin into her hands, alternating the deep breaths between the spicy saltiness of the stew and the honeyed sweetness of the tea. When a knock sounded on the door less than five minutes later, Aylee turned to her mother. “My guard – he is called Bruison – has treated me with utmost respect. If you can convince him, invite him in for a cup of tea. I am quite indebted to his kindness.”

Fortunately for Aylee, her father had not overreacted to the guard's presence, insisting that an extra hand around gave him rather more a sense of security than not. Aylee's father had understood her reservations regarding Jess, but had cautioned her to hold her judgment until Jess returned. Once Everett Hembry laid eyes on the young man and exchanged a few words with him, the father would understand the young man's veracity where the daughter could not. So much faith did she place in her father's discernment that she soon pressed her concerns about Jess's identity to the back of her mind.

Matters of the heart, though, proved more complex, and all Raehan could offer Aylee was the assurance that she would know whether or not to let her heart loose once Jess talked to her father. If she had judged Jess aright, the man would never speak to her father, at least not to any benefit. Though her mother’s answer had not satisfied her, Aylee had sighed her exasperation into her tea. The knock, though, allowed her a pleasant distraction, and after she had made her request of her mother, Aylee herself hurried to open the door.

To her utter surprise, she came face to face with Itchy – perhaps the only face save Jess that would have shocked her quite so much. Maybe she should have mistrusted the sudden appearance, but she could not. She threw her arms around his neck and laughed with pleasure. Though he returned her laugh, he gripped her arms and pressed her away from him. When she finally looked in his face, he wore there an anxiety that quickly transferred onto her own visage. “Is it Jess?” she begged, and Itchy seemed to shake himself out of his bothered state to stare directly at her. Was she honestly concerned about Jess?

“What? No, Miss Aylee. Do not yet worry yourself for Jess. I will soon find out his condition, and will inform you as soon as I can.”

“Thank you,” she sighed, and Raehan Hembry stored up the expression on her daughter's face as highly indicative of Aylee's desires.

“Please,” Itchy continued urgently, “I must hurry, but I could not leave you again to suffer under the schemings of Malchus.”

“What are you talking about, Master Itchy?” Everett Hembry stepped toward the door.

“Once before, I had to choose between my master and Miss Aylee, and when I chose my master, it almost cost Aylee her life. I wish to remedy that mistake by informing you of an important development regarding your safety, and in truth, the safety of your whole family.

Within a five-minute of passing the Hembrys' home a few moments before, Itchy had determined he would need to return there. Just as he had reached the edge of the house on the other side of the little square, he had noticed an odd flashing light among the trees, and after assessing it for a moment, he had seen the flash materialize into the drawn sword of a soldier who stood just outside of the shadow of the woods. Soon, a few others joined the soldier, and they began, not marching, but sliding stealthily along the far edge of the houses opposite the Hembrys. The subsequent movement of several more soldiers into the light had confirmed Itchy's suspicions when he recognized the uniforms and weapons of the soldiers commanded by Malchus Lorne. Their movements definitely bespoke an approach to a target, and since the Hembrys stood afoul of Malchus, their house would seem the logical destination. After a few more moment's observation, Itchy knew for sure.

“You are about to be attacked,” Itchy finally explained to his rapt audience. “You have less than ten minutes, so I suggest moving to another location. I have a small gathering of men with me, but I would prefer not to leave them as they are necessary for me to aid my master.”

Everett glanced at his wife where she held their young infant in her arms. “In truth, Master Itchy, we have thought to expect such a situation for the last couple of weeks. We have felt more shocked that nothing has happened than we feel now that it has. Raehan, you know what to do.”

With that, Raehan Hembry bustled the children through the back door and disappeared around the back of the house. Everett began to pull down a veritable armory of weapons from various shelves and cupboards. In under three minutes, the man had every window defended with a fireshot, and sixty seconds later, a small battery of men entered through the back door of the home and took up positions around the room. “How many do we face?” Everett queried dispassionately.

“A mere five. I think they, not you, will find themselves in need of rescue.”

“I guarantee it,” Everett Hembry grinned. “I think that you had best take your leave now if you are to reach your master in time to help him.”

“You are right,” Itchy conceded. “If I am able, I will send some reinforcements just to make sure.”

“Any help will be appreciated but is not necessary. Bennigton decided long ago that we would not suffer the same fate as our neighbors. We are well prepared to hold off an entire army for several days. I hope success for your master. Come and see us when we are in less contentious times. Aylee,” he turned to his daughter, “the front window is yours.”

After a rapid smile at the words, Itchy turned from the Hembry home, confident that he left it in capable hands. Almost as soon as he stepped into the forest, Itchy saw evidence that the few soldiers who had advanced on the Hembry house had not traveled alone, though no one else turned toward the Hembrys. Once again, lights flashed in reflection within the dark of the woods, and he gasped at the number. How many slipped past in the shadow! This second set of soldiers seemed laid out in a strange configuration, and not directed toward Bennigton itself. In order to assess such a unusual formation, Itchy scrambled up to the roof of the Hembrys' stable, peering as he moved at the vast net of flashing swords that seemed laid out across the forest floor.

“Shall we engage them?” one of his men queried.

“There are too many, and we have a more pressing issue that we must address at the moment.” Scurrying down to join his men, Itchy rushed on through the town and headed past the marsh. From there, he could make his way to Jameson without encountering the soldiers. Jameson had planned his approach to Capigan from a position near Bennigton, and Itchy began to realize that if the troops continued in their current trajectory, the soldiers would intercept the troops long before they reached their destination.

Itchy struck out into the marsh, recognizing that it comprised the only route that could successfully skirt Malchus and his soldiers. Perhaps the troop could utilize the same route that Itchy now took, but he would need to send a message to inform them of the obstacle.

When he passed by Lady Willen's house, inspiration struck him. If anyone knew an easier route through the marsh, she would. Who knew what routes lay within the borders so scrupulously guarded by its residents? His only concern stemmed from the thought that she might prove unwilling to open the secrets of the marsh to such a large contingent of people, and military men, no less. He prayed that she would prove cooperative.