Ransom jogged around the corner and down the length of the castle wall in the courtyard. He passed the rear of the stables where the horses were kept and thought of Gemmell. When they started to work with their lances, he’d be able to ride again.
A flash of warning came to him, just in time for him to start raising his arms. The staff struck him hard across the front, smashing into his forearms and knocking him down on his back. When his head struck the cobblestones, everything went dark for a moment.
A ship has been found willing to take our household to Legault. Da had chartered with another captain who turned out to be as thick as manure but only half as useful. He’d proposed setting sail, even though there seemed to be a squall on the sea. Da may not be a sailor, but a good man giving bad advice is quite often more dangerous than a nasty brute giving bad advice. That captain was acting the maggot. Da says we may not return to Ceredigion for a while, as if that would bother me. Best to be out of the country while the new king establishes his court and gets used to the burden of the hollow crown. He’ll be rewarding his friends with all the plums in his new orchard. Since Da served King Gervase, albeit without much enthusiasm, he doesn’t expect any of the delectable fruit. No, Da will prove his worth as soon as someone pokes the royal nest with a stick, and men-at-arms and knights are needed to fight. Course, he may have to prove himself even sooner. Many in Legault aren’t keen on having a ruler who isn’t Gaultic-born. Some people only listen to forged iron after being clouted on the head.
—Claire de Murrow
Glosstyr Keep
（final entry before embarking on a journey to my true home）
CHAPTER FOUR
The Sound of the Falls
When the boot struck Ransom’s stomach, it hurt and made him gasp for breath as it woke him. Another solid blow to his spine followed, and he knew he was in trouble. With his eyes squinting from the pain, he couldn’t make out how many there were, but there were at least four. Maybe five. They’d caught him blind with that staff, and his arms still throbbed from absorbing the blow.
“Bring him into the alley,” snarled the voice of James Wigant in an undertone.
Two of the lads hauled Ransom up by the arms to drag him there, where only more pain and humiliation awaited. Sweat had already soaked his braided tunic from the workout in the yard, but he felt something sticky on his brow and saw red in his left eye. Breathing was a challenge, but he managed to suck in some air despite the pain.
Surprisingly, Ransom felt no fear. The pain faded quickly, and his mind suddenly became as crisp as the air on a winter’s morning. The thumping of his pulse in his ears slowed, and it almost sounded like a rush of water from the falls outside Kingfountain. Was it a memory? Whatever it was, he buried himself in it, remembering the power of the falls, the beautiful and violent swath of waters that had taken away the canoe bearing his king. An image flashed in his mind of that canoe, of the still corpse that lay inside. The love he’d felt for Gervase thrummed in his heart.
Ransom found his feet and shoved one of his assailants into the edge of the wall before they could drag him into the gap of the alley. The young man grunted in pain and let go. With his newly freed hand, he clenched a fist and punched the other fellow who was restraining him in the jaw, dropping him with a single blow. Ransom lifted his head, feeling one of his eyes swelling shut, and saw three more in front of him, including Wigant’s heir. A look of surprise flitted across that usually smug face as Ransom tackled the duke’s son into the alley wall.
The two slammed into the side of the stables, and horses inside began to complain noisily. James’s head slammed back into the wall a second time before the others grabbed Ransom and yanked him away. He saw the staff coming toward his face and ducked at the last moment. The blow that had been intended for him struck one of the others instead, making the youth slump to the ground. It was a boy named Bart who held the staff, and Ransom charged him. They wrestled with it a moment before Ransom flung him into the side of the stables.
James tackled Ransom onto the cobblestones, and his fist collided with Ransom’s skull twice. The pain was jarring, but Ransom still felt that odd, invigorating sensation. Despite his injuries, he felt full of energy. Brimming with it. He rolled to one side, and James barked in pain as his fist hit the stones instead. Ransom twisted and managed to kick James in the stomach, knocking him backward. That gave Ransom the chance to make it back to his feet, and suddenly he sensed someone behind him—Bart with the reclaimed staff. The sensation came too late, though, and the wooden weapon slid across his front and pinned him to Bart’s body.