Shadows Of Desire
When the Crow Sings

Greagor led the group out of the gate house. He didn’t anticipate trouble but the guards on the wall and in the guard house were not aware of the situation. If the group was spotted trying to sneak Rowan and Aidan out of the city, the guards on lookout might attempt to stop them. Greagor could explain to them later what was going on but for the time being he would just order them to stand down and hoped they had enough sense to listen.

Hamish and Monro were the next to exit and Evander, staying close to Aidan, led he and Rowan outside behind the others. All the guards, including Greagor, formed a circle around Rowan and Aidan. Aidan moved closer to Rowan as though trying to shield Rowan with his own body. Greagor admired Aidan for his part in the escape. He may not have been a trained fighter but he was brave and loyal to his Prince. He would no doubt make a fine Knight one day. Of that Greagor was certain.

As the group made their way silently out of the gate house and along the wall to where the wicket was located near the gate and about fifteen feet from the gate house, Greagor noticed how quiet the night was. It as almost too quiet. The guards patrolling the wall had not noticed them and, it seemed like all life had stopped. Save for the sounds of crickets chirping in the distance there was nothing. Even the wolves had gone silent. At this hour they should have been able to hear the sounds of the city coming to life. Half the city had been at the courtyard, awaiting the execution but by now they would have realized that it wasn’t happening and returned to their homes or work.

It was odd. There was no sound of anyone talking or bartering for goods, no sounds of carts being driven along the roads. No noises of children at play. It was as though the entire Kingdom of Basmorte had just abruptly cleared the streets and taken refuge in their homes. Greagor didn’t like it. He didn’t like the calm, still, quiet or the feeling he was suddenly getting. The feeling... of being watched.

The others had noticed it too. Each of them felt uneasy and the tension in the air was thick as their instincts were warning them that there was hidden danger near-by. Greagor tried to push his anxiety down. He was their captain, their leader. He couldn’t show fear for the others would certainly pick up on that and panic but, the closer they got to the gate, the more he started to think that they were not alone.

The sounds of hooves rushing towards them broke the silence and each of the small group turned their heads to look in the direction that the sound was coming from. Rowan’s heart sank when he saw four Knights riding towards them. The four that approached came to a stop three feet from where the group stood, waiting and watching. Rowan knew trying to run now would be a mistake. These men were warriors, trained killers. Even if Rowan ran now, they were likely hunt him down and either drag him back to the Queen or kill him on the spot.

A handful of Knights had been in Pickaway village the night Rowan had been taken but they were there as enforcers. They were the muscle. The guards were trained fighters as well but they were not the ones sent off into battle. They were meant to guard the gate and Palace, police the city, and protect the people as well as the royal family.

If Caroline had wanted the village wiped out she would have sent the Knights in alone. Sending Greagor and his guard meant she had wanted them captured and Questioned. The Queen would only send her Knights if she wanted someone dead. This did not sit well with Rowan because it became painfully aware to him exactly what the Queen was doing. These men were to apprehend him and take him to the Queen and then kill the others. Just by accepting help from Greagor and the others, Rowan had put their lives in jeopardy.

“Halt! In the name of the Queen.” Rowan looked up towards the Knight who had spoken. He did not recognize the three men behind him but this man he did know. He was Sir, Richard Caffrey, a commander and, the three men behind him, were lieutenants.

Greagor motioned for the others to stay behind him as he stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. The three lieutenants rode around, surrounding Greagor’s group and blocking their path. Each of the men looked so imposing as they sat upon their horses, their perfectly polished armor gleaming in the moonlight. Rowan was in awe of them. Greagor, on the other hand, stared at the men surrounding them with contempt.

He narrowed his eyes and frowned then turned his attention back to the Commander. “Sir Caffrey.” He asked, his voice hard and stern. “None of your men are stationed at the gate. What business have you here?”

“I am here on her majesty’s orders.” Caffrey said. His voice was hard and emotionless as he looked down to Greagor. His eyes bore into the man, almost accusingly. Caffrey’s staunch loyalty to the Queen never wavering.

Greagor’s fingers tightened their grip around the hilt of his sword. He was ready for a fight, ready to defend the Prince and he knew that the men behind him would follow him into battle without a second thought. Their loyalty to their captain was every bit as steadfast as the Knight’s was to their Queen. Greagor never doubted his men’s honor. Not for one moment. What he did doubt, however, were their chances of surviving such a battle. Four guards and squire against the Queen’s army did not bode well for them. True, there were only four Knights present. That didn’t mean that more weren’t hidden, just out of view, waiting on word from their commander to attack. Greagor just wasn’t willing to take that chance.

“For what purpose did she send you?” Greagor asked, knowing all too well what the answer would be.

Caffrey frowned and furrowed his brow. Already he was growing tired of talking. He wanted to take action and Greagor was stalling him. “My orders are to apprehend the prisoner and, any who attempt to aide him.”

“Kill us you mean!” Evander stepped out from behind Greagor and glared menacingly at the Knight. When he spoke, his words were sharp and his voice laced with anger. “You betray your honor, Sir Caffrey.”

“My honor is intact, boy.” Caffrey scowled at Evander. “As a Knight, I am honor bound to carry out her majesty’s justice.”

“This is not justice.” Evander sneered. “It’s cold-blooded murder!”

“You dare to question the Queen’s orders?” Caffrey demanded, his voice cold and commanding.

“This Queen?” Evander’s lips curled into an ugly frown and his nostrils flared. “I certainly do and, you should as well. Do you even know why the Queen wants her so-called prisoner recaptured? Has she told you what he’s supposedly done? Did you even bother to ask?”

“She has her reasons.” Caffrey told him, standing firm. “It’s not my place to question, only to obey.”

“Your loyalty is misplaced.” Evander shook his head in disbelief. “The Queen is a tyrant. The Kingdom is ready to revolt against her. Why do you still follow her?”

“Because.” Caffrey sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “She is my Queen and I have sworn an oath to serve and defend the crown.”

“And I have sworn an oath to protect the royal bloodline.” Greagor took a step forward, his hand still tightly gripping the hilt of his sword. “And, it’s an oath I plan to keep.”

“Even at the cost of your own life?” Caffrey watched as Greagor moved into a fighting stance, ready to draw his sword. The other guards moved in behind him, each of them forming a protective circle around, who Caffrey assumed was, the prisoner. Each of them ready to fight and die to protect their charge. Caffrey could scarcely believe what he was seeing. It was senseless. There was no way that four guards could fend off an attack by four Knights let alone the army that backed him yet, here they were, willing to sacrifice themselves for this prisoner. Who was this man? Caffrey wondered. What did he have to do with the royal family and, why was he so damn important?

“Would you not lay down your life in defense of your Queen?” Greagor asked the commander.

“I would.” Caffrey told him. “I would in an instant.”

“Then you see our dilemma.” Greagor unsheathed his sword and held it at his side. Evander and the others followed suit. “Neither of us are going to stand down.”

“You’re making a mistake.” Caffrey sounded almost disappointed. He sighed, shaking his head, growing more frustrated as the minutes passed. “Lay down your swords and surrender. This is the only warning I’m going to give. If you continue with this foolishness then we will have no choice but to cut you down and seize the prisoner.”

With a nod of his head, Caffrey’s lieutenants each drew their swords and prepared to attack. Greagor knew that he and his men were seriously outmatched but, it mattered little to him. To die protecting his Prince was the greatest honor he could achieve. “We will never surrender to you, or to your Queen.” Greagor growled.

“Continue on with this and you die.” Caffrey warned.

“Then we die.” Greagor raised his sword, gripping it with both hands, he readied himself for the onslaught that was sure to come. “Men,” He called out to the three guards behind him. “Protect the Prince!”

Caffrey’s face twisted into a mask of confusion. He didn’t understand the meaning of Greagor’s words. The Prince was dead and laid to rest in the family crypt. Had Desmond perhaps sired another son, one that no one knew about until now? Is that why the Queen wanted him dead? He threatened her claim to the throne? Sir Caffrey was torn between what to do. He didn’t want to kill these men. They were good men. Good soldiers but, by defying the Queen they had committed treason and there was only one punishment for such a crime. Even if he captured them alive, each of them would be sentenced to death.

Sir Caffrey was loyal to the Queen. Loyal to the crown. He knew he had but one choice. The Queen was the ruling voice of Basmorte and so he must do as she bid. There was no other way. He had to take the prisoner alive and deliver him to the Queen and any man who stood in his way would die. “So be it.” Caffrey said though his voice sounded tired and defeated. “You leave me with no choice.”

The tension that hung in the air between the two groups was palpable as each group stood on the brink of conflict. The Queens orders were not to be taken lightly. Everyone knew this but, Sir Caffrey didn’t seem to know, nor care to know, why he was given such orders. He had no idea who the prisoner was or why the Queen wanted him. He was ready to fight and kill and, possibly die, all for the sake of his misplaced loyalty to an unworthy Queen.

Greagor and the others also put their lives on the line to protect Rowan knowing that they couldn’t possibly win this fight. Both groups would fight to the death if it came to that. Rowan sighed, running his hand through his hair. No. He thought. I don’t want more blood on my hands. I can’t let this happen. Sir Caffrey and his men had to the know the truth. Maybe then a fight could be avoided and, these men’s lives could be spared.

Taking a deep breath, Rowan freed himself of Aidan’s grasp and stepped forward. Ignoring the protests from Greagor and the others, Rowan walked through the group surrounding him to where Greagor was standing, facing the Knight commander. Everyone turned as Rowan came into view, his face half-hidden in the shadows. Rowan stood beside Greagor, looking up at Caffrey and then, did something that shocked the Knight...Rowan bowed.

Caffrey narrowed his eyes at the sight of the prisoner he was there to arrest, bowing to him. It was a show of mockery rather than respect, he was sure of it. He pursed his lips and raised his hand, signaling his men to move in and seize the prisoner-- whom he was certain had stepped forward to give himself up-- but, as Rowan righted himself, and took a small step closer, Caffrey stopped, his eyes growing wide with disbelief.

Rowan was now standing in full view of everyone. His angelic face bathed in the moonlight, revealing his true identity to all. The lieutenants gasped in shock and bewilderment. “Halt.” Caffrey barked as he took a moment to study the young man standing before him. No matter how he tried to rationalize what he was looking at, no matter how many excuses his mind conjured up to explain away what was happening, he could not deny what his eyes were telling him. There could be no mistake, the young man standing before him now, was Prince Rowan.

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