Freck nervously looked over at Lanico for help, found none, and then looked back at Treva. “Look. Things have changed since you left. We spent the day with Lika. She told us about all the changes.”
“What kind of changes?” Lanico stopped to lower himself, bending to Freck’s seated height.
“Because so many Mysra were unexpectedly killed at the Great Mist, a few things happened.” Freck gulped water quickly from his canteen.
“Continue,” Lanico urged; annoyed at Freck’s obvious stalling for time. He glanced to Treva and said in their unspoken way, “You and I used to torture for less cooperation than this.” He then turned back to the youth. Calm—his face, his voice, calm. It was fact that his voice would have been just as calm during those times of interrogation and rare torture as well.
“Grude doesn’t need as much trillium anymore. So, demands of mining are lessened.” Freck and Felena gave turns relaying to their leaders more information, aiding in their plan. Some of the information was already known by Treva, and other information was indeed new. Freck continued at one point, “He also has many slaves and he wants to keep them from escaping or revolting. So, another change is that he allows them days off from toiling—every week—to keep them, I guess, happier. He also has a WynSprign woman companion, Cantata, who lives in the castle with him. She has been parading around the encampment trying to get slaves to be angry at you,” He looked to Lanico, “but she also wants them to like Grude for all these positive changes he’s making.” Freck paused, uncertain. “This is because he expects you will seize this opportunity with the reduced Mysra to take back the castle and he wants the slaves to side with him. He wants them to think…” Freck forced himself to continue through the rest of this, “…he wants them to think you, uh, abandoned them.”
A twinge of pain stabbed at Lanico’s heart. It was true. That was in fact one thing that he regretted the most—having abandoned his people. He took a deep breath in. His foe had unknowingly played on his fears well. “Is this what Lika said?” Lanico asked composedly.
Freck nodded.
Lanico straightened, before rising to amble away in thought. Treva shot Lanico a glance of daggers and walked back to Freck.
“And what about Marin?” she charged.
“Treva, he decided to stay a night, alright?” Lanico interjected sternly on Freck’s behalf.
Freck nodded, looking up at Lanico. He looked to Treva’s face, and then immediately regretted that action. He cast his eyes downward and allowed his shoulders to slump.
“So, you’re fine with this?” she hissed at her General.
“I trust him—and them.” He gestured to the young warriors.
Treva’s blood was hot and she trembled with boiling rage. “It’s easy for you all to say! So-so easy. It’s only a night! Right? None of you understand the demands that it takes being a slave. If he gets into trouble, they’ll beat him, or flog him. Or…” Treva became quiet. She turned slowly from him, trying to breath. Her voice lowered, “Or-or they could keep him in a cage.” Like Anah, she didn’t say. But the sorrow-glazed look she gave Anah had said enough.
Their glowing eyes grew wide in surprise. No one realized Anah had been kept in a cage! Anah sank to the grasses. Gish lowered to sit beside her.
“Tre-” Lanico tried.
“No.” Treva said holding her hand up. “No. You don’t get to talk to me about this. I-I need to step away for a few moments.” It was taking all her energy to not reach over and beat the two young WynSprigns at their negligence. “How many times did we cover this? All three of you were to come back by nightfall—dozens of times. Probably more?” She breathed and sauntered away into the thick trees to clear her mind.
She just needed to get away from them.
From all of them.
Chapter 15
Of her waiting wrath
“That’s right, just use those there.” Lika pointed to bundles of clothes that she had previously laundered and folded. “Those ones should be nice and soft, still warmed from the sun.” Lika’s harsh tone had become almost just as soft. She hadn’t any children of her own, but imagined she had, just for a few hours. If she was honest with herself, that’s probably all the experience she’d want anyhow—a few hours. Children were exasperating and she didn’t have time for their nonsense.
“These are better than the bedding that we used at home…in the Great Mist.” Marin patted the bundles of clothes before lying on them. He kept his voice just at a whisper.
“Really?” Lika’s pronounced eyebrows rose as two fuzzy caterpillars on her brow.
“Yeah well, the bed sacks were filled with wood shavings and sawdust,” Marin continued.
“Oh well, I supposed that would be a bit rougher. Itchy more-like.” Lika twisted and turned on her bed trying to get comfortable.
Marin sighed. It was quiet. He could hear distant coughing from a random neighbor’s hut nearby. Then soft murmuring as well. It was a different experience. Everyone lived so close together, there was not much privacy. The huts were worn, and outside was visible through the woven thatches. There were no trees to climb either, or at least that he could see from beyond this maze of huts. Trees. They were so very important to Marin.
“So, tomorrow, I will—” Lika stopped. The curtain door swooshed aside! A set of golden glowing eyes pierced the dark. A silhouette of a muscled woman appeared in the dim moonlight. A woman, clad in leather and weapons that shone silver. With only the sound of stretching leather, she marched in and thrust the curtain closed behind her.
“Marin, up!” Her forceful whisper sounded. Had they been in a safe location, there was no doubt she’d be screaming at him.
“Mother?” Marin quietly inquired.
“Yes. Up. Now!” A livid but controlled demand. Her body trembled, fighting to keep resolve over her fury. She was actually quivering.
“Treva, is that you?” Lika asked in tired surprise. Treva’s voice was familiar and that face—but emerald hair? She had always known the name, but just assumed it was shared by another—by the Emerald Knight. Quickly, her mind returned to the mysterious woman she’d seen once so many years ago, delivering the baby in Izra’s chambers under the cloak of secrecy—the days that followed, the locks of emerald. Marin’s story. It all came snapping together as a wet rag slapping against stone! “Oh!” The laundress gasped, knowing the answer just then.
Treva had known all along who Lika was. She was familiar with the castle laundress, was familiar with many of the castle workers, but following the siege, she continued to keep her own identity hidden from all of them, even trusted Lika. It wasn’t easy; keeping that damned bonnet on and feigning a repulsive scalp condition to keep them all away. Her greatest visual identifier had always been the rarity of her brilliant emerald hair, and since this had been hidden beneath that hideous bonnet unwaveringly for so many years… “Yes, Lika.” Treva confirmed. “Please tell no one of my presence.” Though well-mannered, Treva sounded demanding at this.
“Your-your bonnet…” Lika trailed off, piecing her thoughts together. She squinted. “You’re the Knight—you’re Marin’s mother?” A soft laugh came. “All this time…” Lika threw her hands over her mouth to contain her joy and surprise at this. All this time, she never knew—all this time. Treva’s rare emerald locks, and battle-ready adornment had been her primary features all those years ago. She had never paid attention to the details of the Knight’s face and Marin never had mentioned his mother’s name to Lika, had only referred to her as the Emerald Knight.
Treva had no time to explain, not that it mattered. She grumbled in frustration. Then, she realized her error in attitude and looked at Lika. She worked to soften a bit. She was tired and had been worked hard for countless years. Treva felt compassion for the old laundress of the castle, the slave. Despite her better judgment, Treva heard herself ask, “Lika, would you like to come with us?” A kind offer.
The thought of being spotted, the land mines and poison barbs,
having to climb a hill and run on and on. The tower’s eyes...no. “No, my dear. I cannot.” Lika shook her head. “I’d only place you at risk of getting caught. No, I-I will remain here, for now. With a hopeful heart. I want to see our people freed under Lanico, but I know my limits.”
Treva understood and nodded, secretly grateful. It was true, Lika wouldn’t have easily run, climbed, and remained stealthy. It was better that she remained here until time and safety came. “Thank you, Lika. It’s good to have your alliance once again.”
“Treva, Emerald Knight...you’ve had my alliance—always.” A warm smile in the dim light. A truth. She never betrayed the secret of Marin’s birth; of what she witnessed that day so long ago.
Marin had risen and dusted himself off. He grabbed Lika’s hand and held it for only a moment. He gave a smile. “Thank you for caring for me this evening, Ms. Lika, and thank you for the information. You’ve helped us win already.”
At her son’s words, a small twinge of pride came to Treva, but not enough to save his ass from her waiting wrath.
“Yeah—well.” Lika wanted to say more, but remembered the biting urgency. “Go on now, boy, the WynSprigns and the kingdom await.”
Marin turned to face his mother. And her wrath, it awaits as well, he thought with accuracy.
“Let’s off!” Treva sounded a stern whisper as she shoved Marin through the curtain. It was obvious she was furious at his foolhardy decision, and Marin knew it. He was in trouble. Big trouble.
She led the way through the maze of huts. He followed his mother’s surreptitious movements in the glow of the moon. As they crept, they could hear yelling and the sound of heavy scuffling movement growing louder. There is no way that the slaves nearby are sleeping through this. He thought, and then realized in terror that with every step placed they were actually moving toward it! Treva then paused, appearing to contemplate something.
A mournful sound raised the hair on the back of Marin’s neck. They wound toward the edge of the encampment—the direction that they needed to take. Marin’s breath caught. His glowing eyes widened in horror at the sight. A large WynSprign was being beaten by an even larger, monstrous Mysra guard wearing a red cape.
Chapter 16
You. Are. Mine
“Nizen,” Treva hissed low.
Effortlessly the guard lifted the WynSprign man in the air and slammed him to the ground. The slave landed with a thud so hard that they felt it through their boots.
Suddenly, Treva raised a hand to her face and she pressed a palm to her cheek. Her face twisted in torment, recalling a punch the guard landed there once before. She remembered years of suppressing her rage and pain. Knowing that, had she had the strength in all those times of her violation, she could have easily killed him, but instead had been purposely rendered unable with the controlled starvation and lashings.
Her eyes scanned the scene, recognizing Miken as the persecuted WynSprign, and instantly her heart ached.
The WynSprign man, Miken, rolled. His large frame was covered in dust and blood. With a weak, rasped voice, he pleaded with the guard, who instead twisted a smile on his stone face. The Mysra loved it; the begging and the crying—he loved it. Just because. In a swift move he kicked the man while he lay crumpled on the ground. The sound of Nizen’s boot plowing into Miken’s gut made Marin gag audibly.
“I lovvve getting angry...and you know that you’re my favorite to take it out on.” The Mysra stalked slowly around the slave, waiting, measuring the next strike. Calculating where best to place it.
Miken had always been there for her, had helped her countless times burdening loads of trillium. She had assumed more than once that he held secret affections for her, though she wouldn’t dare entertain them. He had always been a kindhearted WynSprign despite Nizen’s constant torment. She knew of his physical abuse—had seen the signs of it while in the mines, but actually seeing the beating taking place proved too much, even for her. The emotional and physical losses that she had to endure and fight through had officially boiled over. Yes, she was a trained Soldier of old, used to setting her emotions aside, but now with suppression lifted...she snapped.
“Stay here,” Treva whispered to a petrified Marin.
Marin’s eyes welled and his heart pounded. He didn’t know if the Mysra was going to kill that slave, or if he was already dying. He noticed how his large body lay still. His breath rose in the cool night air as a light blue wisp. Then, from the corner of his eye, he watched his mother approach them, slowly.
Treva held her falchion at the ready. She prowled; a wild cat prepared to pounce on prey.
The burnt smell of oiled infused braziers and the brassy scent of trillium wafted. The huge Mysra breathed heavily and was getting ready to kick the WynSprign man again until he spotted the golden of Treva’s glowing eyes on him. She was off to the side. He knew the glow of WynSprign eyes; of her golden eyes in the dark. He turned quickly to meet her glare and his sick grin lifted higher. “Treva?” He panted, roving his eyes over her, up and down. The knowing places that his touch violated her-but always stopped short at the recollection of her detestable scalp condition. Luckily, it had been a turn-off to him.
The memories still made her stomach flop. But resolve set quickly. She rationalized that this, whatever was unfolding, could quickly turn into a dream come true.
His thoughts were visually registering in his mind at the sight of her. He wasn’t a fool. “I see you haven’t that damned bonnet on.” A thick breathy scoff, nodding. “No scalp condition after all. Yeah, now I get it. Now I know the green-haired warrior bitch we’ve been feeding all these years. There’s only ever been one green-headed WynSprign and even though she had been struck down, her body wasn’t found after the siege.” A growl grew from his throat. “I see you’ve returned for your punishment, barrack whore.”
“That’s Knighted bitch! Get it right next time, ya stupid bastard!” The focus needed to be on her. She needed to keep this between the two of them, and for him to avoid alerting the other guards. She had to keep his attention and anger on her. Attacking him personally would keep him here—focused on her.
“For you, there will be no next time. You’re lucky we didn’t find out about you all these years.” A sick grin smeared his gray face. “You thought you were clever, huh?” His panting breath steamed. His voice was a deep gravel. “It delights me to think of all the fun we could have had with you.” He licked his lips at the contemptuous thoughts that now polluted his brain.
She shuddered, but gave a dark laugh, in spite of the creeping chills he gave her. Yes. Yes. Keep focus on me, she thought. “Well, now’s your chance to show me what I missed out on.” She opened her arms wide, cocky. She gave an open grin and bowed slightly—mocking, urging him on. She’d take care of him, but only him tonight. Tactical in thought, she recognized she was only one single fighter. They still needed to stick to plans made—at least what remained of them at this point.
He turned.
No. Her heartbeat skipped in sudden dread.
With a force, he launched a swift heavy kick into the unconscious slave’s lowered head. The WynSprign. Miken made no sound at the foot that railed into his skull. His head knocked back, but his face and eyes were expressionless. Closed.
With anger writhing inside, she fought back to focus. To keep steady. To avoid bolting forward. She refused herself to think about Miken—not yet.
“Ooooh, I love getting to pound on him.” He turned to face her full-on. “And now...you.” Nizen stomped closer to her, closing the distance between them. Bloodlust danced in his eyes, viewing her—Treva, the legendary emerald-haired Knight. She was now his to toy with.
The smell of his hot trillium-induced breath hit her senses with a smack before they began their game, their dance. For a moment she felt she was in the mine. A gag sounded from her, but she stiffened quickly.
No.
Resolve.
Treva remained calm at this attempt to provoke her—kicking Mik
en, his taunts, his perverse desire to hurt. She’d turn this—she felt it, clawing, twisting inside of her. A small flame now freely roared into an unstoppable inferno that had been repressed for far too fucking long. There would be no more denying herself of having her way with him. Oh, gods be damned how she had dreamed of running this asshole Nizen through all these long years—and the time is now. It was as if a beautiful, ornate gift had just landed in her possession; wrapped in lacy bows and delicate packaging.
Delighted, she gave a dark laugh that didn’t reach the glow of her eyes. “No, Nizen.” She sniffed hard and kept her crooked smile. The anger transformed her, rushed into her arms, down her wrists. Her fingers curled—her body was ready to erupt in her fight. “No, I’ve come back for you!” The molten anger surged throughout her whole body, igniting her limbs.
And there—there it was.
Her desire to kill him. A love, long lost from recent freedom.
The Legacy of Lanico: Return of the Son: Book two of the Legacy of Lanico series Page 16
