Oath of the Outcast

by C M Banschbach

  “Only thirty?” A faint quirk of amusement showed around the Baron’s eyes as he kindled the fire.

  It was the most familiar expression Alan had seen on the Baron’s face yet. Something almost comfortable. Whoever these men were before they joined the outlaws of the Dragon Keep, right now they were the closest family the Mountain Baron had.

  Rorie glared at Jes before mumbling something about the five men that they’d deterred. He reached for the food packs and received a slap from Bryn.

  “You know you’re permanently off cooking duty.”

  “It was one time!” The highlander muttered, sitting back with a sulk as Bryn took over dinner preparations.

  But Bryn and the Baron seemed to share some sort of understanding, and Alan could see why Bryn had come. Most likely the same reason he’d volunteered to come on the mission. Somewhere under the ice of the Baron, part of Rhys MacDuffy still remained.

  Chapter 8

  The steward of the Carraig ushered Laird Brogan MacDuffy into Lord Sarksten’s private chambers. Light refreshments adorned the table, waiting to satisfy the traveler’s hunger.

  The steward dismissed the other servant and prepared to wait on his lord.

  “Laird Brogan, it’s been some time.” Lord Sarksten reached out to his guest.

  “Sarksten.” Brogan clasped Sarksten’s hand.

  The lord of the Carraig did not appear to have aged at all in the years since the war. He still stood tall and straight and moved with a younger man’s ease, despite the white of his hair. Age hadn’t dulled his craftiness either. That was the reason that Brogan had come to him.

  “Have a seat.” Sarksten gestured to one of the carved chairs on the other side of his desk. Brogan eased his travel-tired body into the chair. His guard took up a stance behind him, hands clasped in front of his sword belt, ready for action should the need arise.

  “How was your journey?” Sarksten poured a glass of wine and handed it across the table to Brogan.

  “Uneventful.” Brogan took an appraising sip.

  Sarksten leaned back in his chair, holding his own cup of wine. “I heard what happened with your young Seer.”

  Brogan nodded. “It’s a bad business. MacTavish and I have been in council these last months trying to decide the most prudent course of action.”

  “It was a bold move on Adam’s part.”

  “Too bold.” Anger stirred again in Brogan’s chest at the memory of Dermot and his family after Sean had been taken.

  “And how are the Clans going to respond?” Sarksten’s eyes narrowed shrewdly over his wine glass as he took another sip.

  “That depends. You received our messenger?”

  “I did.” Sarksten inclined his head. “He explained everything as fully as he could, but I think there’s more to say. Hence, this meeting.” He gestured to Brogan.

  Brogan allowed a slight smile. “We are gathering our forces as we speak. We’ve sent a man to parley with Lord Adam to give us more time and keep him distracted from us.”

  “Who did you send?”

  Brogan sipped at his wine. “He seems well known in these parts.”

  “The Mountain Baron?”

  Brogan nodded, noting how Sarksten graciously refrained from mentioning the disgraced man’s name.

  “The same. The Seer is his blood. It is my hope that Adam will consider him sufficiently neutral to not take immediate action against us.” Even if war is on its way.

  “And if the Baron should take immediate action against Adam?” Sarksten raised an eyebrow. He knew the history between the men as well as Brogan.

  That’s what Alan is there to prevent. Hopefully.

  “Adam should also take his presence as a signal that I will not hesitate to defend my own.”

  “The Baron might say you failed in that duty seven years ago.” Sarksten observed with a slight frown.

  “Except that it was you who advised me to distance myself from him, lest it appear that the Clans had a hand in the assassination.” Brogan’s voice sharpened as he leaned forward. In the tumult following the assassination and trial, it had seemed the only thing to do to maintain peace.

  Sarksten dipped his head in acknowledgment of the accusation. “We could not afford another war in those days. I doubt we can afford one now.” An infuriating calm filled his words and his face as he drank again.

  “I don’t want it to come to war, but Adam has been pushing toward it for the last year. There have been raids along the Highlanders’ southern borders for months, but he won’t take responsibility.” Brogan said. “I’ve never trusted him.”

  “Neither have I.” Sarksten pushed aside his goblet. “Though perhaps we brought this on ourselves by allowing him to sit as steward in Castle Bright.”

  “You would have elected a new king then? Or left the seat empty?” Accusation crept through Brogan’s voice. It had been a hard decision, hotly debated, to allow then-General Adam Barkley to become lord in the castle he’d sworn to protect.

  Sarksten gave a thin smile. “And who would we have chosen to replace the Seabright line? We might be in a worse position than we are now.”

  Brogan tipped his head. Many would have taken the throne, but the council could not reach a consensus. “It seems Adam plans to make himself king. Perhaps we just gave him what he wanted.”

  “You think there’s some truth to what the Baron claimed all those years ago? That Adam was behind the assassination?” Sarksten steepled his fingers.

  Brogan shrugged. He’d wanted to believe the Baron, but the evidence against him had been overwhelming. No witnesses. Nothing to prove he hadn’t killed the last prince of the Seabright line. His wild claims that Adam Barkley had set him up were nothing more than the desperate ravings of a madman, striving to hold on to his clan.

  “We had no witnesses then, and we surely have none now.”

  “That is why I wanted the Baron left alive,” Sarksten said. “I knew we might need him one day. Maybe soon, if we need a way to bring Adam down.”

  “Something tells me he won’t be inclined to help us.” Brogan gave a wry smile. The Baron had made no effort to hide his hate and anger at the Talam’s house. I have only myself to blame for that.

  “And if some sort of promise were made in exchange for his help? Every man wants some sort of redemption.” Sarksten tilted his head, candlelight glinting off his white hair. The crafty gleam in his eyes looked just like one of the mountain lynxes that he had taken as his sigil.

  Brogan shook his head. “The Baron’s an outcast. No man has ever been brought back into the Clans after that pronouncement. In the eyes of the Clans, there’s no way for him to atone for his crime.”

  Sarksten shrugged, not quite hiding the slight narrowing of his eyes as if he was disappointed in Brogan’s response. “Perhaps. But maybe you should consider it an option should we need his help. He and his men have a reputation and skills that could be assets in the coming conflict.”

  Brogan tapped a finger against the arm of his chair. Using reconciliation with Clan MacDuffy as a bargaining chip to manipulate the Mountain Baron sounded plausible in theory, but no one could convince the man to do anything he didn’t want to do. A more stubborn clansman had never lived. And if such an agreement turned sour, it wouldn’t be the Baron who ended up burning.

  “Hopefully it won’t come to that, because I wouldn’t count on the Cairns’s help,” he said. “We’ll wait to see the outcome of the Baron’s meeting with Adam first before deciding our next course of action. My nephew went with him to help negotiate. They should reach Castle Bright within the next two days.”

  “Do you think Adam will release your Seer?”

  Brogan hesitated. He and MacTavish had debated this many times. They truly didn’t see Sean being peacefully released. Which is why they’d elected to send for the Baron. He’d do whatever it took to get Sean back to the Clans. And if nothing else, he’d serve as a distraction while they made final preparations for war.

&nb
sp; “No,” Brogan said. “Adam’s moved too far now to simply release Sean. He hasn’t directly attacked our borders yet, so taking Sean was an act of aggression. He knows what the Seers are to the Clans, especially during war. If he wants war, then he’ll hold on to Sean.”

  Or try. Though there’s no guarantee what will happen once the Baron arrives.

  Sarksten rubbed his short beard. “What forces have you gathered?”

  “The Highlanders have pledged their men. They’ve no fondness for Adam. I don’t know that they ever did. And as Chieftain of the seven clans, MacTavish has brought the other five under our banner of war should it come to that.”

  “I thought MacTavishes never called for war.”

  Brogan allowed a smile. Sarksten was still well-versed in the ways of the Clans. The personality of the Clans could change every five years, depending on which clan was elected to hold the title of chieftain over the other six. “Aye, the MacTavishes are politicians, and the MacDuffys are warriors. But we need each other. I went to the Chieftain with my grievance, and he called the Lairds. The north is preparing.”

  “You know that even with the combined forces of the Highlanders and the Clans, Adam can still overwhelm you?” Sarksten leaned forward, pressing his hands against the desk.

  “And that’s why we’ve come to you. We need more men. Adam won’t stop after he defeats us. He’ll come for you next.”

  Sarksten had long been one of the most powerful lords in Alsaya behind the Seabright Kings. He held the fealty of the coastal lords east of the Bear River and the smaller northern barons whose lands abutted the Clans’. Allying with him gave the Clans and Highlanders their only true chance to challenge Lord Adam.

  “And if we are to defeat Adam, then what? It still leaves the Seabright seat empty and we are in the same position we were in after the Sea Wars.” Sarksten leaned on the arm of his chair, rubbing at his chin. Interest gleamed bright in his eyes.

  Brogan laced his hands together, tapping his thumbs together. Another thing that MacTavish and he had discussed with the other clan lairds at length. “The Clans at least are agreed that we still have no claim to the throne. We’ve governed ourselves for generations under a Chieftain while swearing allegiance to the Seabrights. But we will see a better replacement to take over Adam’s governances,” he said, steel in his voice.

  Sarksten straightened, nodding again. “And the Highlanders?”

  “They say much the same.”

  Sarksten pressed his fingertips together, his eyes narrowing slightly as he stared at his desk before flicking his gaze up to meet Brogan’s. “And who do you think would make the best replacement? There are other lords to choose from, and many that I would bring in an alliance with you.”

  Brogan sat a little taller. The messenger they’d sent had offered terms already. Alliances never came cheap, especially with one of Sarksten’s stature. But the more shrewd MacTavish had wondered if there might be something worth more to Sarksten than gold or trade. And he’d given Brogan the liberty to use it as he would in any further negotiations.

  He pressed aside his last reservations and regarded Sarksten steadily. “The Clans will give our loyalty to the man best suited for the position.” Not an outright declaration, but enough for Sarksten to sit back, a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth the only sign of his pleasure.

  “What say you, Sarksten?”

  The lord of the Carraig paused for only a moment before replying. “You have my support, Laird Brogan.”

  Chapter 9

  Lord Adam Barkley paced the council chamber of Castle Bright. The crying of seagulls floated through the open window along with the constant assault of waves against the cliffs. He turned away from his paper-laden desk, wishing for the relative simplicity of his time as a general before the Sea Wars when the Karanti had descended on Alsaya with their ships.

  Adam shut the window against the incessant shrieking of the gulls, frowning in irritation at the headache that had only grown worse over the course of the day. Years ago, he’d convinced the council of lords to let him hold Castle Bright. The seat of their kings shouldn’t be left to decay.

  And they bought it. He scoffed at the memory. Though the fact that he’d commanded half the army had helped his cause. But with the rise to the title of noble, and accompanying addition of over half of the southern territories under his banner, had come endless amounts of paperwork.

  But shows me how broken the country still is. And I can fix it. Alsaya can be a proud, united nation once again.

  He took his seat at the mahogany desk, spreading new missives before him. As the Seer had predicted, war was coming. He had been preparing for a long time. He was almost ready.

  If only the Seer would cooperate. I just want to know the future. It’s a simple request. He rubbed at his temple. He should have remembered how infuriatingly stubborn Clansmen were. Second only to the Highlanders.

  The Clans and Highlanders were no large concern. Lord Sarksten, however, was a different matter altogether. Sarksten controlled the eastern half of the lowlands, and the crafty lord posed a significantly greater challenge in terms of men and strategy.

  Spies brought word that the Clans were seeking an alliance with him. Adam would need to move fast.

  “The past rides closer every day.” He tossed down his pen as the Seer’s words floated back through his mind. He couldn’t seem to get rid of them.

  Did he mean the gathering Clans and lords? They all had a past together from the war. Though if they weren’t all so stubborn there’d be no need for this war.

  His headache throbbed in time to the crashing waves still audible against the cliffs. He knew Alsaya would still be a strong, proud country. The old king and his sons had died, leaving the way for fresh blood to step in and bring the country to a new power that she could never had achieved under the Seabrights.

  And in the power vacuum after the last prince had met his untimely demise at the hands of the banished Rhys MacDuffy, he’d built up his position in order to do that very thing.

  A knock sounded at the door, sending a fresh spear of discomfort between his eyes.

  “Enter!” he growled.

  The guard opened the door. “It’s Alisher, my lord.”

  Adam flicked his hand in permission for the guard to allow the druid in.

  Alisher swept in, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth as the guard leaned back to put some sort of distance between them.

  The guard retreated at Adam’s signal and the door clicked softly shut. He stood to greet Alisher, still staying a few steps away from the druid. The man always made Adam vaguely uneasy.

  “Deronis has a request to make of you, my lord.” Alisher bowed ever so slightly, waving like the seagrass in the light morning breeze. It irked Adam whenever Alisher began conversations this way.

  “Then make it in his name.” He gave the odd formulaic reply that the druids insisted on.

  “It is about the Seer, my lord. His spirit is strong, and it will be too long before we can bend him to our purpose. But we have consulted our scrolls and there is another way we can try to make use of his gift,” Alisher said. “We need his blood.”

  “His blood?” Adam started at the request. “No, I told you that no irreparable harm was to come to him!”

  Alisher raised an eyebrow. “You have been at our sessions, have you not?”

  “Yes, but I don’t need him maimed or dead before he’s served his purpose.”

  “We will keep him alive,” Alisher promised. “We accepted your invitation to come here because you told us you could provide us with new servants of Deronis. You are not the only one who has a purpose with the Seer.”

  “And how will his blood help?” Adam crossed his arms, a sort of morbid curiosity sparking the question. He’d given the druids access to any prisoner for their occult experiments. Well, any but one. They’d never made such a request before.

  “Blood is power. You die when your body drains of blood,
do you not? It holds the power of the soul. With the Seer’s blood, we will be able to unlock his soul and bend it to Deronis’s will.”

  A shiver cut across Adam’s skin. He’d met one of the druidic order years ago on a trip to Cressa under the old king. He’d sought them out again two years ago, interested to learn more about their power. When they’d promised him success in exchange for a few simple requests and service to Deronis, it hadn’t been a difficult decision. But still, some of their demands raised flags in his mind, verging on darkness he didn’t feel confident embracing.

  I’ve spilled plenty of blood to get what I want. Why is this different?

  “Perhaps you would like to see what we can do with his blood?” Alisher gestured to the door.

  Adam shook his head. Alisher’s invitation was not the distraction he’d wanted a few minutes ago.

  But a little blood can’t hurt. Wars always start with blood.

  “Fine, do what you must with him. Just leave him alive.”

  Alisher gave his small bow again, the tip of his long beard brushing the surface of the desk. “There is one more thing.”

  Adam tilted his head.

  “It seems that the Seer has been speaking with several guards and another prisoner in the cells. They give him news of the castle and the world.”

  Adam tensed. “What?”

  Alisher shrugged. “The prisoner is of no concern, but order your guards not to speak to him. He must be isolated, cut off any connection to an outside world. Let him know that the only future for him is Deronis’s.”

  Adam barely heard the druid. I wasn’t thinking. The Clansman is a Seer. Who knows what he’s seen and heard in the dungeons? His blood ran cold. Perhaps I do have something from the past to fear.

  “I’ll take care of it,” Adam said sharply.

  “Deronis smiles upon you,” Alisher intoned, spreading his hands in a sort of benediction.

  Adam gave the appropriate bow and murmured, “I am his to command.”

  The smug look returned to Alisher’s face at his obeisance. “We will triumph with the Seer, and the future will be ours to rule.” He leaned a little closer as if he’d read Adam’s thoughts. “There is nothing to fear. The Seer will be weakened as we draw his blood, and his power given to us instead. We will have our victories.”