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Part
Two
She drifted off to her dreams as the
fire burned down to coals. This was the time she dreaded most,
when the swirl of night's blistering colors would sweep her
away. She never knew if she would visit that awful night or
if she would see her husband, eyes telling whispered tales
of their love. It was an iffy chance, one she would take just
to see him again.
**************************************************
A high pitched screech razed the air,
shattering it to bits. The sound of a gong followed not two
seconds later. Taylen leaped out of bed and grabbed his sword
off its bracket on the wall.
"Kara, arm yourself, stay here and
guard William." He yelled at her as he threw open the door
to their room.
Slipping out of her flowing nightgown,
she quickly drew on her pants and shirt. A dazed thought that
she should adopt her husband's habit of wearing pajama's crazily
crossed her mind. Ah, but he loved that bit of lace, placed
just so.
Taking her own sword off the wall,
she hurried down the darkened corridor. The faint smell of
burning wood reached her nose, clearing her head. She couldn't
help but to want to dash outside to guard her husband's back.
No. Her duty was clear. Her son came first.
William's room was four doors down.
He insisted he didn't want to sleep in the nursery any more,
as precocious and brave as only a four-year-old could be.
She opened his door.
He was sitting up in bed having been
wakened by all the noise. "Mommy, what's wrong?"
"I am not sure what is going on sweetheart.
Your father told me to come here and wait for him. Will you
stay up with me until he comes?" She didn't want to lie to
him about the danger, but the truth was, she didn't know what
was going on.
His eyes widened and he smiled his
father's smile. "Can we tell stories and roast nuts over the
fire when he gets here?" he asked excitedly.
She couldn't help but grin, "Of course.
What story do you want to hear?"
Moving over to the bed, she sat down
next to him, sinking into the soft mattress. She smoothed
back his spiky hair as he considered the question.
Something caught his eye and he sat
up straighter. "Why do you have your sword?"
"Because I am not sure what is going
on. Your father wanted me to come and guard you." It hurt
her heart to say it, but he had to know the truth.
"Are there bad people coming? Are they
going to hurt us?"
She sighed and kissed his brow. He
was so warm and alive under her lips. The sweet scent of lingering
babyhood clung to him. Was there a finer smell in the world?
No, there wasn't and she would weep on the day it was gone
from him forever.
"I don't know if bad people are coming.
If they do, I will not let them hurt you." That seemed to
relax his tension a bit, but she could tell he was still troubled.
Quiet now, they sat together under
his blue silk canopy and waited. The smell of burning wood
grew stronger as well as the clash of weapons and screams
of men and women.
The noise crept closer. Kara sat up
and took Willie's hand, "Willie, I want you to hide under…"
At that moment, the door smashed open
under the weight of four men. Willie screamed and clutched
at her arm as she tried to raise her sword.
"Let go Willie! I must fight!" She
shook off his hands and braced herself. Willie slithered to
the floor on the other side of the bed, taking refuge under
it.
Three men rushed her head on while
one tried to slip around her to reach Willie. She flicked
her sword around, slashed him across the throat, spun all
the way around and engaged the others in front of her. She
saw surprise and wariness tinge their eyes. Ah, they hadn't
counted on her speed and agility. Good.
"Come on you sons of a goat, take me
if you can!" Brave words from her, but she knew the chances
of her killing three men at once were less than none.
The room faded to around her as she
focused to her task. Slash, parry, defend, attack. Her breath
heaved and her arm was heavy, but still she fought on. No
man would reach her son while she was alive. She could hear
Willie calling for her and his father under the bed. With
a surge of energy, she dove under a swinging sword and cut
open a belly. Blood and entrails spilled to the floor.
Only two left, she chanted in her head.
The men pulled back slightly, more wary of her now than before.
They came for her again. One flipped her sword in the air,
her arm burning from exhaustion; she couldn't stop it from
swinging wide. The other took the opportunity to slam his
fist in her belly. Her breath left her in one great whoosh.
Doubled over, she couldn't avoid the butt of the sword bashing
the back of her head. Blackness seized her and she fell beside
the men she had killed.
One tiny pinprick of light, her mind
trapped it, clung to it like a man falling from a cliff would
grasp a blade of grass. Lifting her head, she opened her caked
eyes. Everything swam dizzily before her. Her head pounded.
If only it would stop, she would remember what she was supposed
to do. Pushing herself up on her elbows, she vomited, spewing
bile from her mouth and nose. It mixed with the blood on the
floor, causing her to vomit again. She flopped back down,
not caring what she lay in.
A round circle of gold caught her eye.
It glimmered and beckoned her forward. There was the answer
she was looking for. She reached her hand out, painfully dragging
it to her. She had to struggle to focus on it. It was Willie's
House ring. The one Taylen's father had given him on his last
name day. Made small to fit his little finger, it was carved
with both hers and Taylen's sigils.
All of her memories thrashed their
way to the surface of her brain. "Willie" she breathed.
Forcing herself up, she hitched her
way forward on her elbows, towards the bed. Her wavering hand
reached for the sheet draped over the side of the bed and
lifted it up. He was gone. Willie was gone. Her parched throat
wouldn't let her wail her grief, but it wracked her just the
same. Her baby was gone. Her promises shattered.
She had failed.
**************************************
She jerked awake from the grip of
her dream. The last thought of her husband today would be
the sight of him charging from their room. She had hoped it
would be a dream of their wedding, or the birth of their son.
Maybe, if she could try hard enough, she could remember the
soft sighs and moans of their bed.
No, the only moaning going on the vicinity
were the ridiculous noises coming from Madric. Goddess, how
did his wife ever sleep with the man?
Sitting up, her blankets fell away
from her. Picking up a small stick, she hefted it in her hand.
Yes, the sour mood that it would put him in was a good price
to pay to get him to shut up. She tossed it at his back.
He reared up out of his bedding, thrashing
about like a pig-for-all out of the water. She couldn't help
it. Peals of laughter rolled out of her chest. Huffing, his
dignity as wild as his mustache, he gave he a decimating glare.
"What, no words of good morn to me?
What is wrong with you?" She did manage to keep a straight
face with that question.
"Nothing, my lady, that a cold stream
and a wet royal wouldn't cure." He shot back as he rose from
his bed.
"Oho, in a bad mood this morning?"
she chortled and wrapped her arms around her legs.
He stood ridged before her, "The woman
I pledged my lord I would look after as he was carried away
on his enemy's back has no regard for her safety. She has
no clue how to do the work we need to do and is constantly
looking at men from the wrong end of a sword. Why in the name
of the God would I be in a bad mood?" He stomped off to the
saddlebags.
Sour indeed. That was putting it mildly.
Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea after all. Generally,
he tended to wake slowly, with the smell of bacon or steak
on the air. She snorted. His wife spoiled him horribly. To
the point the man actually expected her to do his laundry.
The first time he hinted around for it, she acidly asked him
if he knew how to pick up a rock and smash it against another
rock, or did she need to show him? That shut him right up.
Of course, she reflected back, there
were times when she had been a little hard on Taylen. It wasn't
until after the marriage took place that she understood how
truly patient he had been with her. Bards sang songs of their
courtship and the merry chase she led him on. She could remember
clearly the color of her face that reflected back from her
silver wineglass when she heard the terrible jests his friends
were prodding him with. His face was as red as hers was, but
he bore it with grace. She laughed to herself as she thought
of the wicked frown that he would bestow on some unlucky fop
when they skirted to close to insulting her.
"Are you going to sit there like a
lump all day? Or are you going to help me fix breakfast?"
came a disgruntled voice to break her out of her thoughts.
Once Madric figured out she wasn't going to do all of the
domestic chores for him, he made good and sure she did her
part.
"Yes, hand me the bacon and I'll get
it started." She took the frying pan and bacon from him, setting
it on the ground before the hollowed out fireplace. Stoking
last night's coals, she managed to get a fire crackling. As
she was placing the pan on the small grill, she asked, "Where
are we going today? Did you find anything out in town last
night?" Risky that, bringing anything up remotely connected
to her killing those men, but it couldn't be helped.
For just a second, he looked like he
was going to lash into her again. However, something made
him hesitate.
She seized on it. "What, did you hear?
Hurry man, out with it!"
"Nothing of Willie, I am afraid, but
I did get a reliable report of a man fitting Taylen's description."
He squatted down next to her, parceling flat bread out to
both plates.
"Hummm, do you think maybe they have
split them up? I meant to tell you last night that I found
that whole incident with those men odd. They never even let
me open my mouth. As soon as I was done knocking, they attacked
me. I thought they could have been after the gold. These Northern
men don't let their woman train with weapons. Maybe they thought
I would be easy money so far from town."
He was silent for a long while as she
doled out the bacon. "Let's go back to town and see what else
we can dig up." He suggested. The man was as tightfisted with
ideas as he was gold. The last time she had accused him with
that he informed her it was because of her harebrained ideas
and inability to keep track of their money.
She was not eager to repeat that dressing
down so all she said was, "Alright, let's get packed up right
after breakfast."
***********************************
The gentle sway of her horse rolled
in time with her swirling thoughts. Not even the lovely green
leafed trees that bathed the air could distract her. Those
men had been waiting for her. After she had knocked on the
weathered door, one of them had thrown it open so hard it
shivered on its hinges. Many cracks and unfilled chinks riddled
the clapboard structure. More than likely, they had watched
her approach.
There were so many questions they hadn't
found answers for. The most important one being who held her
husband and son. They didn't even know why. No ransom had
been asked, no bloodprice demanded and it had been almost
six weeks since the kidnapping. That thought curdled her stomach.
Their enemy was so sure of themselves. They hadn't felt the
need to make any demands. They knew she would follow. She
had slain ten men in their search. Goddess, she was so tired
of blood.
"They have studied the Absili well,"
she said breaking the silence. "They are also very patient.
They have been leaving us dribbles to follow, knowing we would.
If they are patient enough to wait for us to find them, then
it begs us to ask how long have they been planning this?"
The sudden picture of a killwell spider brushed her thoughts.
They were extremely efficient killers, often waiting for days
or weeks for their prey to come to them.
She shuddered. Spiders were one of
the few things that made her skin crawl. "The men back there
were waiting for me. But do these people really want us dead?
We have been attacked more times than I care to remember.
Why not send a force big enough to just kill us? We are only
two people. And why want me dead now? Why not a week ago?"
Madric mulled that over for a minute
before replying. "You're right. I have been thinking along
those lines myself. It is a puzzle we should have paid attention
too long before this. Think carefully. At what times have
we been attacked?"
She thought over each incident. A pattern
emerged, so obvious that she screwed her face up in disgust.
"Every time we find a lead on which direction they were taking,"
she said.
He nodded in agreement. "Not only that,
the men that attacked us, who were they? How did they fight?"
"No better than mercenaries. I just
assumed they didn't bring a big enough force to leave men
behind."
"Yes," he said, shifting in his saddle,
"they didn't leave men behind, at least not enough to harry
us. The only ones they did leave are with Taylen and Willie.
They hired people to make our lives miserable while we followed
their trail. But why? The people they used that night were
fine warriors, brave and ferocious in battle. That is something
we need answered."
Quiet settled between them again. It
just wouldn't leave her alone. There was something missing.
Something that she should know but couldn't capture in her
mind. What was it? "Start at the beginning",
a voice whispered. The Goddess or her own conscious? She didn't
know, but it was as good a place as any to follow the paths
and clues that would lead her to her family.
***********************************************
Her vision blurred in and out, causing
her to stager back and forth across the hall. She wasn't supposed
to be out of her sickbed, but the Goddess take her if she
was going to miss the plans for her family's recovery. Before
she could open the door, an intense wave of nausea hit her.
Hands flat out against the wall, she bent over as her stomach
threatened to reject her small attempt at lunch. Wouldn't
that just thrill the queen to death? One just did not sick
up in the hallway. One left that for the privacy of the bedchamber.
That thought wedged her meal firmly into place.
The carvings of dragons and seasnakes
decorating the wall felt soft and smooth under her fingers.
A sweet scent of lemon and beeswax overlaid the lingering
smell of smoke. She slid her fingertips up, taking strength
from the spirit of those animals. A hundred or so years ago,
dragons were used in battle. They were still kept as pets
in some of the Provinces. She had made a fine friend with
the one her cousin owned. Their unfortunate habit of gorging
themselves on local livestock had somewhat curtailed that
fashion, which was sad. It was said that the loyalty of a
dragon outstripped that of a dog by far and everything she
had witnessed with her cousin's dragon proved that theory.
Taylen had promised to buy one for her next name day, much
to his mother's exasperation.
She sighed. All of this meandering
about dragons was nothing more than a poor attempt to delay
knocking on the door. As much as she felt she had a right
to know what was going on, she didn't want to make the King
angry. Tense lines of worry and sorrow had mapped his face
when he visited her this morning. She didn't want to add to
his heartache by collapsing at his feet.
Yet, she had sworn in blood, once at
her marriage, again with the birth of her son. Sworn to help
protect her family, guarding Taylen's back at every opportunity.
She had failed, but was determined to get them back. How could
she live with parts of her ripped from her soul?
She opened the door. Several faces
looked up at her entrance. An amusing array of emotions greeted
her, ranging from puzzlement to disgust.
"What are you doing here?" the King
demanded.
"I thought I should be here." Unhappy
silence was the result of that statement. No one was thrilled
she was here at all, but the reality was by Absili law and
hundreds of years of tradition, she had more right than anyone
to be included in the council. Even still, the King clearly
wasn't happy.
"Are you sure daughter? I would not
lose you also."
"I am fine, really. My head continues
to hurt and I become dizzy at times, but I must be here."
Anyone who looked at her could tell she was still hurting.
Maybe honesty would get her what she desired.
The King pursed his lips and considered
his fingernails. Finally, he looked back at her. A hint of
pride softened the worry in his eyes. "Madric was just about
to start his report on everything we have learned. Take a
seat."
Trying not to be obvious about her
shaking legs, she dropped into the nearest chair available
to her. Soft cushions supported her back, making her feel
like she was floating on air. Her whole body relaxed. The
easing of tension caused the pounding in her head to let up.
She propped her chin in her hand and pretended she was having
no trouble focusing on Madric.
Refusing to look at her, Madric picked
up a piece of paper in front of him and began listing known
facts about the kidnapping.
"We know the force that invaded the
palace was small, no more than 20 men and woman. They entered
through Beggar's Door. We discovered the man who opened the
door to allow them in. He didn't know much, only that he was
supposed to unbar the door at two o'clock exactly. He was
paid 100 pieces of Dacealeoun coin for his trouble. The traitor
is now residing in Hubert's prison. Maybe hunger will help
him recover his memory, but I truly believe that if he knows
more, it isn't much." He couldn't stop the anger from forcing
its way through his voice. The very idea of someone betraying
his beloved prince caused his face to turn bright red.
"The soldiers wore no sigil or colors.
Their clothes were of black wool and well made. The eight
we killed outright had swords and daggers made of fine steel.
We have received no ransom demand or request for bloodprice.
A report was passed on of a group of 12 men who made off in
different directions at Four Crossings, not an hour after
the attack. One group had one large and one small bundle tied
down on horses. They proceeded to head north." his voice was
failing him, so he paused to take a drink.
"The only man we know we can recognize
on sight has a burn scar covering the right half of his face.
The Prince's Guard doesn't have any more information at this
time." The expression on his face made it obvious it pained
him to make that admission. The air grew thick with anger
and worry as everyone digested what little information they
had.
A birdsman clock ticked away with an
exaggerated laziness that amazed her. She had to say something,
anything to drown out the malignant stroke of the clock. Time
was against them now.
Clasping her hands together in front
of her, she presented her idea. "I think the best thing to
do is to send a small company, maybe two or three people,
out to discover exactly where they are taking them. We can't
mount a rescue mission until we know where they are. A couple
of people can ask discreet questions, ones that won't draw
a lot of attention. If we send too many men, the Northern
nations will want to know why we are marching troops across
their countries." She took a breath once she realized all
eyes were on her. "I want to go."
That brought the expected explosion.
Madric was just gearing up for a ringing rendition of why
that couldn't be humanly possible when something inside of
her snapped. She felt it clearly, a sudden tear breaking her
from the bonds of civility. She leapt out of her chair and
slammed her open palm on the table. Her whole body was infused
with fury over their galling assurance that she couldn't bring
her family back.
"How dare you," the quiet menace
in her voice cut through their expostulations better than
if she had shouted her intentions from the roof of the palace.
"Don't any of you presume to tell me I can not help find my
husband and my son. Did I not stand before the God and Goddess
and proclaim my vows? Will you be the instrument of my shame?
Do any of you really think you can stop me?"
No one moved. She could hear a servant
push a cart down the hallway; no doubt serving lunch to the
various dignitaries that arrived to feed off of the crisis.
She desperately wanted to relax her stance before she fell
down and made an utter fool of herself, yet she knew she couldn't.
One sign of weakness would ruin whatever advantage she had
gained by her outburst.
The King jolted himself out of his
awed silence. "No, I don't think we can," his voice thickened
with admiration, "nor will we try. You will go."
continued
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