To Dellman's Ridge

Erin’s daily rituals were the same. Unending. Unchanging. She had chores to complete, a garden to tend as her brothers ploughed the fields and herded sheep. She had chickens to feed and a cow to milk in the old barn to the west of the farmhouse. Everyday was the same, calm and uneventful. But not today. Today was different.

Pulling open the great doors of the barn with their rusted hinges, Erin said a quick hello to Moss the cow before making her way to grab the milking pale.

“Don’t scream.”

Jumping, Erin turned wide, fearful eyes to the young man lying against the sacks of grain behind a pile of hay.

“Don’t call out, please.”

Erin did as she was told. Her mother had always praised her obedience, and rightly so.

“What’s your name?” the man asked after a heavy breath.

“Erin. Erin Rindle. I… I live here.”

“Hello Erin. I’m Alistar.“

“Alistar? That’s…” And then she saw the man’s burgundy cloak and the golden brooch that held it in place, engraved with the triple headed eagle that served as the emblem of the royals. “Gods above. You’re the king, aren’t you?”

The man nodded.

“What are you doing here?” Erin’s head was overflowing with questions, but she thought better of asking them all at once. The king probably wouldn’t appreciate such a bombardment. “We were told you’d gone to war. Why are you here?”

“I fled,” Alistar began, shifting a little against the sacks. “We were outnumbered. It was a massacre. I ran, but, as you can see… I’m injured.”

Only then did Erin see the large red stain spreading across the king’s shirt. Only then did she realise the severity of the situation. “You need help,” she gasped. “I’ll get my brothers. They can help.”

“No!” Reaching out a hand, Alistar stopped her attempt to get help.

“Why? I can get you help. You’ll be alright.”

“It’s too late for that. I’m dying.”

This was not how she’d thought her day would go when she woke up that morning. It had never crossed her mind that she might stumble upon an injured, dying king in her barn. She didn’t know what to do. “Do… do you want me to sit with you? Whilst we wait?”

“No, though that’s kind of you to offer. No, I need you to do something for me.” From a worn leather satchel stashed away behind him, the king produced a shining golden crown adorned with gems of all shapes and colours. “Do you know the ridge just beyond the forest?”

“Dellman’s ridge? Yes.”

“My sister Cassandra has a camp there. I need you to take this to her.”

Erin shook her head. “No, I… I can’t… I’m just a farmer.”

“Well, Erin Rindle, now you’re a messenger for the king,” Alistar replied. “Please do this for me.”

Fears had to be put aside. This was her king after all.

Erin took the crown. “What should I tell her?”

“Tell her that I’m sorry, that she was right. Tell her to win.”

Nodding, Erin took a step back as the king let out a laboured breath. “Goodbye, my king,” she said with a bow. “Gods have mercy upon you.”

She tucked the crown into her apron, hiding it as she went to the farmhouse.

The family only owned one horse, and usually her brother Simon had it this time of day.

Catching him just in time, Erin grabbed his shoulder, pulled him away from the horse. “I need him.”

“Erin, I have to go to town,” Simon protested. “I have things I –“

“No. I need it.”

Her brother frowned. “Why?”

“I… uh, I have to deliver a message.”

“From whom?”

“It doesn’t matter. Just give me the horse, Simon. It’s urgent.”

He let go of the reigns, Erin grabbing hold. “What’s happened, Erin?”

“There’s a man in the barn. He needs your help.”

“What?”

Mounting the horse, Erin slipped her feet into the stirrups. “I have to go.”

“Erin, wait. What man?”

Clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth, she set the horse in motion.

Riding to the ridge wouldn’t take long, but with the metal crown thumping against her hip, Erin could feel the heavy blanket of urgency settle upon her shoulders.

Fields flew past as her horse sped on through the countryside. She passed fellow farmers, friends of the family who all raised their heads, offering a wave in greeting as she raced by.

There was no time for pleasantries. There was no time for anything save for riding.

The fields gave way to wilderness, and then light woodland. Trees sprouted from the earth, reaching up into the sky, their umbrella canopies casting speckled shadows upon the earth.

Erin had never ridden so fast before in her life. She knew this path, it was the road to town and, beyond that, the city of Amerlow.

Usually when she travelled this trail she was with one or both of her brothers, sitting on the back of their hay cart, minding the produce or animals they’d brought to sell at market. She’d sing as her brother whistled an old tune their father used to play on his flute.

How her father’s eyes would glow with pride if he could see her now. His little girl flying through the forest, hair streaming out behind her as she pressed herself against the horses’ neck.

She missed him.

Her horse was a strong and capable mount, but Erin herself lacked finesse. In rushing to reach the ridge she pushed her steed too hard.

She barely had time to react before the horse let out a whining whinny. Bone cracked as the steed tripped, its legs buckling as it crashed to the ground.

Erin rolled away, narrowly escaping being pinned beneath the beast. “No!”

The horse lifted its head, trying to clamber back onto its feet. Its leg was broken, the bone protruding through the flesh as bright crimson spilled out across its mottled grey coat.

“No, no.” Scrambling to its side, Erin ran her hand through its mane in an attempt to calm the beast. “It’s alright. You’re alright.”

It was not alright.

Without a horse the journey would take twice as long, and the forest traversed by foot was a dangerous place.

She didn’t have time for this.

Wiping at tears on her cheeks, Erin rose to her feet, took a final glance at her horse, and took off running through the trees.

She could make it. She had to make it.

Her father had died in the king’s war. He’d died fighting against the Southern raiders, a sword in his hand and a cry in his throat. He’d died protecting his home and his family.

Erin had cried herself to sleep for three weeks following his death.

Her mother had fallen into a deep depression, never leaving her bed, only eating when one of her children were in the room to watch her. Eventually, heartbreak claimed her too.

Now it was just Erin and her brothers.

Yet the war still raged.

The raiders were moving steadily north, burning and pillaging any settlements they found. It wouldn’t take them long to destroy Erin’s farm as they marched through.

If she could do something, anything, to help the kingdom win the war she’d do it. If delivering the crown to Alistar’s sister brought them victory, then by the Gods would Erin do it.

Once she’d tucked her skirt into her belt Erin found running easier. She pushed her way through the undergrowth, always keeping the ridge ahead of her.

The forest road led a winding route through the trees. A more direct path would be forged if she went cross country through the woodland. It was dangerous, but it had to be done.

With the sun on her side Erin felt little fear as she raced through the trees. Though unseen dangers undoubtedly lurked, she refused to slow down. All caution had been thrown to the wind.

She jumped as a deer bolted into her path, hooves clattering upon the rocky ground as it bounced out of sight deeper into the forest.

Ah, to have the speed and agility of a deer. To spring wildly hither and thither, never quite knowing where your own feet would take you. To be free. Erin often dreamed about what she’d do with such freedom. But right now, all she wanted was the comforting knowledge that her homeland was safe. There was no better place than home.

Suddenly, her foot caught on a jutting root, sending Erin tumbling to the ground. Her hands sliced open upon a sharp rock, hot blood bubbling up, spilling over the edge of her palms. There was no time to tend to the wound. Picking herself up, Erin wiped the blood onto her dress and took off again.

The sun was setting, but the ridge was close now. Only a little longer.

Breaking the treeline, Erin stopped momentarily as she gazed up at the camp on the top of the hill.

So close. She was so close.

Taking a few deep breaths, she pressed on up the hill.

Her entire body ached. Her legs burned with the fires of hell. Her chest felt like it would explode.

Erin didn’t see the soldiers emerge from the treeline behind her. She didn’t see the glint of the arrow as it whistled through the air towards her. She didn’t spot the enemy scouts until it was too late.

The arrow pierced her back, sending her tumbling forwards onto the grass. Pain erupted across her body as blood seeped into her dress.

Another arrow whistled through the air, landing in the dirt inches away from her hand.

No. No, not here. Not now.

Gasping, Erin pushed herself to her feet and clambered up the hill.

Another arrow whizzed past her head, clipping her ear as it went. Flecks of blood splashed across her face and into her eyes.

She kept going.

The pain faded away. All noise, all other sights besides the camp faded into nothingness. In that moment, nothing else mattered.

“Cassandra!” she shouted as she crested the hill. “The princess Cassandra, where is she? I have a message for the princess!” Legs crumbling beneath her, she collapsed to the ground with a sharp cry of pain.

A soldier ran to her side. “You should not –“

“The princess. I… I have a message for… for the princess. Please, where is she?”

“What is it?” From the largest, most decadent tent appeared a woman followed by three heavily armoured men.

Pulling the crown from her apron, Erin held it out.

The woman rushed over, eyes wide. She crouched beside Erin. “Where did you get this? Who are you?”

“Your brother is dead,” Erin managed. “He… he was in my barn, I… I couldn’t…” Swallowing against the pain, she blinked back tears. “He told me to give this… give this to you. He… he said that he’s sorry, that you were right. He said to tell… to tell you to win.”

Slowly, Cassandra wrapped a hand around the crown. “Alistar is dead?”

Erin nodded.

“Enemy scouts!” Came a cry from the camp. “Enemy scouts!”

Soldiers sprung into action, shouts going up from all over the camp.

The men who’d followed the princess formed a protective circle around the pair, barking orders to passing soldiers.

“They… they saw me,” Erin whispered.

Cassandra slipped her hands under Erin, lifted her up. “I’ve got you. You’ll be alright.”

Gazing up into Cassandra’s dark eyes, Erin smiled.

She’d done it. She’d done something good. Now, she could rest.

Erin did not see the end of the war. Held tightly in Cassandra’s arms, her life slipped away, and she fell into an eternal slumber.

When the medics asked what her name was, Cassandra could only respond, “I don’t know. She didn’t say. But, whoever she is, I owe her much.”