Rorie also stood. “I’ll go with you.”
Bryn nodded and they left the camp.
When they reached the road, the cacophony of hundreds of men setting camp on the far side greeted them. Fires had sprung up between the trees, and dark shapes of men and horses flitted between them.
“We’ll have to remind Fulke to give the order not to touch them.” Bryn jerked a thumb at the army. Ripe pickings, the lot of them.
“Not even a little?” Rorie asked.
“Don’t even think about it, Highlander. The Clans already hate the Baron. Let’s not give them another reason.”
Rorie snorted. “Give me some credit, lowlander.”
They trudged up the path towards the bridge, Rorie catching him up on everything else that had happened while he’d been gone. Rorie got them past the bridge guards by flashing Alan’s name, impressing Bryn. The clansman had more influence that he’d originally thought.
Chaos filled the courtyard as the men of Brogan’s personal household milled about, trying to find places to stay. Bryn and Rorie made their way up to the keep and slipped inside.
Chapter 32
Alan hurriedly changed to his cleanest clothes, setting his checkered cloak in perfect folds around his shoulders. His uncle would expect him to look his best. If only he could remember not to confront Brogan about the Baron immediately instead of giving his report like a dutiful soldier and nephew.
He descended the stairs just in time to see Brogan enter the hall and be greeted by Sarksten. Alan stilled the nervous tapping of his fingers and went to join them.
“Alan!” Brogan pulled him into an embrace so tight Alan wondered if his uncle thought the Baron would have left him for dead on the side of the road. “Sean’s here?”
“Aye, we got him out. And another prisoner.” Alan leaned close and lowered his voice. “We need to talk, Uncle.”
Brogan jerked his head in a nod. “Yes. The Baron’s man said a name. Sarksten?” He turned to the lord.
“This way.” Sarksten led them to a private chamber. They waited only a few moments before the door opened again and Damon stepped through. At the sight of the prince, Brogan dropped into a nearby chair, his hand pressed hard into his chest.
“Hello, Laird Brogan,” Damon said, a stiffness to his posture that Alan had noted anytime he and Sarksten were in the same room.
“I couldn’t believe it,” Brogan murmured. “You--”
“I’m alive,” Damon stated the obvious in a clipped tone. “You both punished the wrong man.”
“Now, Damon,” Sarksten said in a placating tone, but Damon glared at him.
“I’m not a child, Sarksten. I think I know who tried to kill me twice and in who’s dungeon I’ve spent the last seven years. Now I understand you are marching to war against Lord Adam. What are your plans?”
That shocked both of the older men, but Alan felt like cheering. After a moment Brogan tipped his head in a nod.
“Allow me a few minutes to assemble the captains and we’ll give you a full report, my lord,” he addressed Damon.
“Laird Brogan, you should know I’ve made no formal claim as to my old title and position. But Adam Barkley has no business in that seat,” Damon said. “I intend to see him removed and several old wrongs righted.”
“Very well.” Brogan bowed and left the room. Alan did the same and followed Brogan.
His uncle halted in the narrow stairway just outside the chamber door. “Alan.”
“Sean and I aren’t letting this go either, Uncle,” Alan warned.
“I know. How long has—the Baron been missing?”
“Six days. Now you pretend to care?” Alan spat, all his old anger at his uncle, tucked away years ago, unravelling again.
“I always did,” Brogan shot back.
“It didn’t seem like it.” Alan tried to brush past him but Brogan grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back.
“I did what I deemed was necessary all those years ago. He was already marked as the prince’s murderer. If we took him back in, the Clans could have been accused of orchestrating the whole thing. This country would have been ripped apart.”
“Like Adam hasn’t already done that?”
“Alan!”
“Then why didn’t you tell him? He deserved to know what was coming.” Alan shook Brogan off. “I deserved to know.”
His uncle’s expression turned weary and old, his shoulders slumping. “I know. But I thought it would make it easier—for me.”
“That’s it? After all these years, that’s all you can tell me?” Alan’s voice rose again in outrage, and he clenched Brogan’s cloak in a white-knuckled grip. “You don’t know what he’s been through. What he’s going through now! Sean’s seen him. They’re torturing him. They know we can’t send anyone for him. And I left him again.” His voice came dangerously close to breaking.
“Alan--”
Alan regained control and released Brogan, taking a step away. “I will join you later, my lord.”
Alan turned away from him and left him in the passageway. He stumbled down the last of the steps and back out into the main hall. Bryn stood in an out of the way corner with Sean. No doubt giving Sean news of his family judging from the look on his face.
Alan wished again that they could have just taken Sean home. That he could go home. He needed to see Caitlín again, hear her voice. Know she was all right and the babe wasn’t giving her any trouble. He’d been gone for three weeks. He could have a child by now. But who knew when he’d be able to see them? If it wasn’t for war—the one thing he’d hoped never to face again.
“Alan!” The voice jerked him from his reverie.
“Conall.” Alan clasped the hand of one of his oldest friends.
“Caitlín chewed my ear off for you and then told me to give you this.” Conall handed Alan a folded piece of parchment.
“How is she?” Alan pressed the letter in his hand as if he could touch her.
“Trying not to show how much she misses you. And she’s blaming you for the fact the baby hasn’t come yet.” Conall smiled broadly. “Says it’s waiting for you to get back.”
Alan chuckled. That sounded like his Caitlín. He slid the letter into his jerkin.
“Everyone have quarters? What do you need?” he asked.
Conall rolled his eyes. “We can take care of ourselves, Alan. Go read your letter.” He pushed Alan away.
Alan shoved him back, but he had one more person to talk to before he did. Bryn greeted him with a nod.
“What now?” Alan asked.
“We’ll ride in a few hours,” Bryn replied. “They should have left as soon as they got here.”
“Just get him out, Bryn.”
The outlaw gave a hard smile. “You don’t have to worry about that.”
“I suppose this might be farewell then.”
Bryn nodded. “For the time being. Good luck to you, Alan.”
“And you, Bryn.”
They clasped hands, and Alan did the same for Rorie. He couldn’t help but like the small band he’d shared the road with.
“We’ll make sure he comes by to talk before we go back home,” Bryn said.
Alan nodded his thanks. None of them dared voice the fear that the Baron might not even be alive by the time the Cairns reached Castle Bright.
Chapter 33
Kane halted in front of the ocean pine door that marked Lord Adam’s study. He flicked a hand to still the over-eager druid pressing close to him.
The stench of their incense clings to everything. I hate it. And their ridiculous beards.
“Enter!” Adam’s muffled voice called.
Kane pushed in, shutting the door in the druid’s face.
Adam looked up from shuffling the papers on his desk. He wore a pleased smile, and Kane eased a fraction. Most were reports coming in on the army and supplies, many of which he’d had a hand in gathering. Adam dashed off a signature on a few more documents, gently blowing on the paper
to dry the ink before stamping with his seal.
“What is it?” Adam asked.
“One of the druids wants to talk.”
“Which one?” Adam jabbed his quill back into the ink bottle in light irritation.
The corner of Kane’s mouth twitched in mild amusement. The druids had spent every spare minute complaining to Adam about how the Baron had gotten the best of them. They clearly weren’t used to someone fighting back.
“Eral.” The amusement died as he said the name. Of all the druids, he disliked Eral most. Possibly more than Alisher, and he deeply despised Alisher.
Adam sighed, but signaled Kane to let the druid in.
Eral looked down an aquiline nose at Kane as he passed, close enough for Kane to catch a whiff of perfume. Kane kept his arms crossed and away from his knives. One stab to the lower back was all it would take.
Adam crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. Where Alisher scorned many creature comforts, Eral clearly was not one to deny himself anything. Kane got the feeling that Eral served Deronis for many of the promised rewards and would take whatever he desired.
The only thing that marred his face was an eyepatch covering his right eye. If the stories were to be believed, he received the wound from a woman who had refused his unwelcome advances.
The druid treated Adam to the same look that he had given Kane, clearly expecting Adam to grovel. The corners of Adam’s eyes creased deeper in irritation. He’d verbalized his discontent to Kane the day before about the druids, of whose promises he’d seen little fulfillment.
“How does Alisher fare?” A hint of amusement laced Adam’s voice.
“He will recover.” Eral’s remaining brown eye narrowed. “That’s why I have come. The Baron must be punished.”
“And you want me to send some real men to see the task done?” Adam asked. “How many of your druids did he kill before he was restrained?”
Kane smirked at Eral’s back again, another bit of faint admiration stirring for the Baron who’d shown himself surprisingly resilient.
“Enough!” Eral gripped the edge of the desk and leaned closer to Adam. “He attacked the sacred priests of Deronis. The god demands retribution.”
Kane noticed he said ‘the’ instead of ‘our’ as Alisher did. Interesting.
“And? I did turn him over to Alisher. What do you want from me?” Adam raised an eyebrow.
Eral straightened. “He must die. Alisher sent me to obtain your approval.” An expression of extreme distaste crossed his features. Clearly they weren’t used to asking permission for anything.
Adam ran a hand over the smooth grain of the chair’s arm, another faint smirk toying at his mouth. He tilted his head, and Kane knew the calculating look in his eyes—considering denying their request just to see what expression would contort Eral’s features next.
But he met the druid’s gaze. “He is of no further use to me. Do with him as you will.”
Eral’s lips parted in a feral smile. “I will tell Alisher.”
“When will the execution be?”
Unease shivered down Kane’s spine at the thought of the Baron’s execution at the hands of the druids. He’d be sorry to see the Baron carted off to the druids’ dark circle for their ceremony.
“When Alisher recovers, he will perform the sacrifice himself.” Eral swept his hands into the wide sleeves of his robe. “Until then, we will make sure he pays for the sins he has committed against Deronis. We only ask that some guards accompany us.”
Adam raised his brow. “I doubt he’ll be much trouble. You saw the amount of blood they mopped up off the floors. He’s not going anywhere fast. In fact, it’s amazing he’s still alive.”
“Indeed. He was left to bleed. It was one of your men who cared for him,” Eral accused.
“Kane has questioned the guards on duty yesterday. It seems that no one saw anything.” Adam didn’t look at him, but there was a bit of displeasure in his voice.
He knows I didn’t tell him everything.
Kane resisted the urge to shift again. He didn’t quite know himself why he’d helped the Baron. Some remnant of decency left from a time long gone? Or maybe because, deep down, he feared what the druids did and what they worshipped a hundred times more than whatever the Brothers preached in the light of the churches.
Eral glared. “We request guards to accompany us when we bring Deronis’s retribution upon the Baron.” His mouth twisted as though saying the words pained him. Adam allowed a smirk to play across his features before flicking his fingers in a gesture of assent.
“I’ll give the order. The prison guards will be at your disposal.”
“Very well.” Eral swept from the room without so much as a bow or a word of thanks.
Adam glanced to Kane. “Maybe it was sheer annoyance with their arrogance that drove the Baron to stab three of them.”
Kane huffed a short laugh. “He only did what I’ve been considering with that one.” He jerked his head towards the door.
“We still need him for the time being.” Adam’s voice dripped in displeasure. “For now, we’ll keep them happy. See to it.”
“Yes, my lord.” Kane bowed and turned dragging feet towards the door.
“What’s he to you, Kane?” Adam leaned his elbows forward on the table to watch Kane.
“Nothing,” Kane replied, but he still did not turn.
Adam studied him for a brief moment. “You’ve never seen your victims afterward have you?”
Kane mutely shook his head. No. It’s not that exactly.
“What is it? I know you know who helped the Baron yesterday, yet you told me different. That’s not like you.”
Kane still said nothing and left the room. The implication in Adam’s words clear. Adam thought he was going soft. And that was something neither of them could afford.
Eral followed him like an aggressive seagull—head thrust forward, wide sleeves flapping like wings in his eager haste, until finally Kane halted and glared him back a few paces.
He gathered a group of guards and led them down to the Baron’s cell, the heavy tramp of their feet disrupting the oppressive silence of the dungeons. Kane ignored Eral and his pleased smile. Alisher at least got his hands dirty and Kane could respect that. Eral was one who let others do the work for him.
The guard at the cell door snapped to attention and smartly stepped aside. The Baron slumped in the corner, the walls appearing to hold him up. He turned exhausted brown eyes on them.
Maybe it’s like Adam said. I never see my victims again after I’m through breaking them.
But that still wasn’t it. Under the bruises and prison grime, the Baron was a man who hated his past and feared his future just as much Kane did.
Eral pushed forward through the guards, but Kane noted he stayed out of the Baron’s reach.
Coward.
“Come back for more?” the Baron rasped.
Eral pushed himself to an even greater height. “For your crimes against the blessed of Deronis, you have been sentenced to death. You will be taken to Deronis’ Gateway where you will have the privilege of meeting the great god himself before you are offered in his name.”
“Really?” the Baron sneered. “I haven’t seen too much of him around.”
“Not here, fool. As soon as Alisher recovers, we will journey to the place Deronis chose for his gateway into this country. He will come for you, never fear.”
A fanatic light touched Eral’s remaining eye, and Kane shuddered. The prisoners taken there by the druids never came back. The guards that accompanied them returned white-faced and silent.
Eral whirled to Kane. “Take him!”
Kane paused just long enough to let the druid know he wasn’t in control before giving the order. The Baron made no resistance as two soldiers hauled him up from the cot. They were forced to take most of his weight as he tried to get his feet under him. Even with all the care secretly given to the Baron, one day was not enough to recover from the blo
od that had covered the stones of the druids’ room.
Eral accepted a bowl from another druid. He tilted it forward so the Baron could see the blood-stained bits of cloth inside.
“Your attempt to thwart us was admirable, if not pathetic. Let this be a lesson to you that no one can stop the will of Deronis.”
Another druid stepped forward and struck flint and steel. A small flame erupted in the bowl and the Baron collapsed, almost dragging the guards to the floor with him. A scream of agony clawed its way from him. The guards released his arms at Kane’s signal, and backed away, their eyes wide in horror.
Kane began to hate the druid’s magic even more. Blood and dreams and chanting—it didn’t sit right with him.
There should be no place for—this—in the real world.
It didn’t take long for the flame to dwindle and leave glowing embers, but it was long enough. The Baron shuddered, trying to draw in a breath.
But Eral wasn’t done. He stepped forward and drove his booted foot into the Baron’s stomach.
“We’ll do the same to the Seer.” He crouched down to better peer into the Baron’s pain-twisted face. “We have enough of your blood to bring him back to us.”
“Then you better hope the Cairns leave enough of your body to bury.” Blood dribbled from the Baron’s mouth. “He’s under my protection.”
A ripple of unease sped through the soldiers. The Baron’s men almost had more of a reputation than their leader.
Eral kicked him again. The Baron sucked in a wheezing gasp. The frustrating almost-sympathy urged Kane forward to crouch beside him.
“You could stop this if you rethink Lord Barkley’s offer,” he murmured.
“I’d never bow to him,” the Baron snarled. “Tell him to watch his back. It won’t be long before the Cairns build his grave.”
Eral laughed. “Deronis will protect Lord Barkley. He protects all those who give their allegiance to him.”
Amusement flickered across the Baron’s face. “Really? It seems you bleed just like the rest of us.”
Eral drove a fist into the Baron’s face and fresh blood beaded his lips.
The Baron spat.
Oath of the Outcast Page 21
