and put his foot in the stirrup of Steorra’s saddle. “They were scared to leave their homes. They think I’m some sort of demon, Rhodes,” he said as he pulled himself up onto the horse. “I had to release them from service.”
Rhodes sighed. “You’re softhearted, Slade,” he said. “You know how dangerous that is in times like these…”
A mirthless smile appeared on Slade’s lips. “I think I’ll manage,” he said. “My heart might be soft, but my walls are made of stone.”
“Well, then,” said Rhodes. “Shall we be going?”
“Yes, let’s,” said Slade. He twisted around in the saddle and offered his hand to his ward. “You too, Raettonus. I’m going to need your help later.”
Raettonus nodded and happily took his hand, and the former knight pulled him up onto the horse to sit behind his saddle. Rhodes chuckled and shook his head. “That boy doesn’t have his own horse?” he said. “Poor Steorra. That can’t be very good on his old bones.”
Slade smiled apologetically and rubbed his steed’s neck fondly. “I know,” he said. “But Raettonus weighs hardly a thing. I’ve been meaning to get him his own horse, but… Well, you know how things go.”
“Maybe you ought to leave the kid behind?” said Rhodes, turning his ugly, mud-colored eyes on Raettonus. Raettonus glared at him and gripped Slade’s tunic. “I mean, for Steorra’s sake. Besides, it’s going to be dangerous. I should think a little boy like that—”
“He’s eleven years old, and capable of taking care of himself,” Slade said. “And Steorra’s plenty capable of carrying us both.”
The other man gave a resigned sigh. “All right then,” he said, reluctance obvious in his voice and in the way he held himself. “I just don’t want your boy getting hurt, or your horse going lame. But if you’re set on bringing him, we should start off, I guess.”
“Lead the way.”
Sir Rhodes nodded and obliged and, horses abreast, they rode out of the courtyard. As they passed beneath the murder-holes and portcullis, a skeleton passed by them, its bones clacking softly with every movement. Raettonus saw Rhodes shiver as he spied the skeleton and quickly avert his gaze. The boy couldn’t help but smirk at that. He didn’t like this man, and he was glad he was afraid.
The portcullis lowered when they were past it, and they started across the overgrown fields around Sir Slade’s castle.
“Master?” asked Raettonus softly. Slade looked back at him over his shoulder. “Where are we going?”
“We’re going to fight some bandits who have been troubling a road a few miles away,” Slade told him with a smile. Even if it wasn’t genuine, Raettonus still loved his smile. “They’ve been ambushing travelers going into and out of Sir Rhodes’ father’s lands.”
“We’re going to stop them, Master?” Raettonus asked.
Slade’s eyes grew sadder, though he smiled still. “Yes,” he said, turning back around. He placed one hand on the hilt of his longsword. “We’re going to stop them.”
“So,” Rhodes said as they drew close to the edge of the field. “The kid here—”
“Raettonus.”
“Raettonus, right. Sorry,” said Sir Rhodes, nodding to the boy. “How’d he come into your protection? Is he a relation of yours?”
Slade shook his head. “No,” he said. “Just a child who needed a guiding hand. I’d rather not talk about that now. Tell me—how have you been? Is your father well?”
As they began to speak of Rhodes’ father and the times the two had shared squiring together, Raettonus wrapped his arms tight around Slade’s waist and, leaning against the man’s back, drifted off to sleep.
He dreamed of rain and rot and of a tall, blond man who spoke harshly to him. The man grabbed him by his wrist and dragged him along a dark hall, and he cried and begged to be let go but it fell on deaf ears. They were nearing the end of the hall, where a gaunt, iron-banded door stood, and as they came close, the door burst open and flames danced out of it. Raettonus dug his heels into the ground and screamed, but the man paid no mind, and Raettonus was too small to resist. The man picked Raettonus up like a sack of turnips and hurled him through the door into the fire.
Raettonus jerked suddenly awake, and Slade turned to look at him. “Something wrong?”
“No, Master,” said the boy. “I was only having a dream.”
“What did you dream?”
Raettonus blinked and tried to recall. “It’s gone now, Master,” he said apologetically. “I can’t remember.”