Bain barked a harsh laugh. “Leadership...”
“Yes, Lord Bain. It will not wait.” He rose as if to exit the tent, and waited in an expectant stance, one hand toward the tent flap as if to hold it open for Bain.
Bain rose with a groan. “You are correct, of course. I thank you.”
“I am here to serve, milord.” The captain opened the flap and followed Bain out.
Chapter Twenty-Two
FERRIN
Phaera was still exploring all the unused spaces in the castle looking for one that would suit her need when angry voices and sounds of a scuffle caught her attention.
The hall at this end of the castle led to a small dungeon and ended in a door to the outside, so prisoners need not be paraded in front of the inhabitants or servants. The door had a strong lock which could only be opened from either side with a heavy, ancient, key. Since this part of the castle was rarely used it was lit with rush torches set into sconces high in the wall. Curious, Phaera lit the one nearest the door with her candle and looked about for where the key might be kept. She did not see any spot that could hide it.
Hearing a key grind in the lock from the outside sent a frisson of fear down her spine. She backed into an opening, out of sight and in shadow, and blew out her candle. One hand went to the dagger she kept in a pocket under the folds of her dun healer’s gown, and drew it out, ready.
The door opened inward and three men stood limned in the glare of daylight behind them. Phaera recognized two as castle guards but the one held between them was unfamiliar. The man was bedraggled, and looked about to faint from exhaustion. His clothes, though covered in the dust and grime of travel, looked to be of good quality cloth and well made. The soles of his shoes flapped, ready to fall off altogether. They had not been made for hard use, the leather being soft and fine.
Phaera could see that the man could no longer keep himself upright, but he seemed determined to say something. His voice was hoarse and cracked as he protested but she made out a few words.
“Must speak … Lady Phaera … Lord Bain … message … spies … danger…”
As he spoke the guards manhandled him past Phaera’s hiding place and opened the door to the first cell, dropping him in with a rough shove that ended in a pained “umph” from the prisoner.
As the guards locked the cell and turned to leave one said, “You will speak to the captain of the guard when he sees fit.” Shaking his head he sent a derisive snarl to his partner. “Speak to Lady Phaera, indeed.”
When they got to the door his partner looked at the torch. “How did that get lit?”
The first one shrugged. “No matter. Leave some light for the prisoner so he can see his future.”
The carelessness and callous attitude of the guard made Phaera fume, but she held still until she heard the key grate in the lock again, and the pair trudge away. Once she could no longer hear them she slipped out of her hiding place, relit her candle from the still burning torch and took it toward the cell door. On the way she spotted the niche in the wall where the keys to the cells hung on a nail. The location of the outdoor key remained a mystery. Perhaps that is just as well. The temptation to use it might be more than I could manage.
As she peered into the cell she could hear the prisoner mumbling and groaning. She thought she could make out the words, “failed … too late … forgive me, Lord Bain…” and quiet weeping. Her first impulse was to speak to him and question him, but her healer role took over and she could see he would not last long if he did not get water. He lay face down, and had not seen her candle flame, so she took a moment to look for a source of water. Every dungeon must have one as prisoners needed it to survive. She walked in the other direction from the door, lighting another torch as she passed it. When she approached the far end she heard the trickling of water. She had almost dismissed it as a leak and turned away from it when the candle flame glistened on liquid too large to be a mere leak. On closer inspection she saw that a spout had been carved into the rock wall directing a tiny stream of water into a clay urn underneath, from which it overflowed and disappeared into a crack in the floor. To one side stood a small stool covered in a thick layer of dust. On it, barely visible through the dust, was a chipped clay cup.
Phaera picked up the cup, returned to the spout and sniffed the stream. Some sulpher. She placed one finger in the stream and held it to her lips. Not the best I have tasted but it appears safe. She rubbed the dust from the cup, cleaned it as best she could with her fingers, and filled it to the brim, taking it to the niche with the keys. Certain the man was too weak to present a danger she unlocked the cell and knelt in the stale rushes beside the prisoner. He had gone quiet but when she touched his shoulder he started and let out a long groan.
“Sir, I have water.” She set the cup down and placed an arm under the man’s shoulder, turned him and helped him lift his head and shoulders, then picked up the cup and held it to his lips.
He drank greedily until he had emptied it. “More…”
“Let that settle for a few moments or you will not hold it down.” Phaera lowered him back to the floor. “I am Lady Phaera. I heard them bringing you in. You mentioned my name and Lord Bain.” She watched for the man’s reactions…
His eyes had been closed as she put him down, but now they flew open. “You? … You are Lady Phaera?”
“I am. Who are you?” She brought the candle closer to her face so he could see her, then set it down again. “Who sent you and why have you come?”
The prisoner struggled to sit upright, a slow smile of astonishment spreading over his face. “My Lady?... Fate be praised, I am not too late.” He stared at her as if to reassure himself.
“I see you have travelled hard, sir, risking your own health and safety. Tell me who you are and why you have come.” She held up the cup. “Then I will fetch you more water.”
He barely glanced at it, continuing to stare at her as though entranced. “Lady Phaera …”
Phaera grew impatient. “Sir, your name.”
“It is Ferrin, Milady.”
“Good. Who sent you?”
The man looked confused. “Kort ... that is … Lord Bain … that is … I have a message.”
When he looked about to fall over, shaking with the effort to remain upright, Phaera gently guided him back down. When he shook his head in protest she said, “Ferrin, you are in no condition to be concerned about protocol. You have heard of my dislike for it, I am sure. Rest here and I will bring another cup of water before you give me Lord Bain’s message.”
With a grateful look Ferrin let his eyes close his shoulders relax as she rose with the cup.
When Phaera returned she found Ferrin asleep, snoring softly, his face relaxed and a small smile playing about the corners of his lips. Kort’s man. So loyal. You do not deserve the aversion men have for you. I shall see you are rewarded for this service. Knowing that there was no immediate urgency to hearing him out, as they would not likely be interrupted for some time, she let him sleep while she examined him more closely. He had clearly never seen hard labour. His hands were soft, with a few blisters from holding onto his pack, which lay beside him where the guards had thrown it.
She removed his shoes and winced at the broken, oozing blisters there. I will tend those as soon as I move you to better quarters. His tattered clothing hung loose over muscles that had grown too thin. She watched the peaceful rise and fall of his chest for a moment before pulling his pack toward her and looking inside. And empty water flask. Dried salted meat which he was too weak to chew, with no water to get it down… She set the pack aside with a sympathetic shake of her head. Poor man. I must wake him and hear his story before the guards bring the captain. With great reluctance she placed her arm once more under his shoulder and shook him gently.
Ferrin woke with a start, wild eyed. Then, on seeing Phaera, he calmed and helped her as much as he could. With her help he downed the second cup. “I thank you, Milady.”
“Are you st
rong enough to give me your message and tell me what happened?”
“Yes, thank you, Milady.”
“Take your time and leave nothing out. Here, let me help you to the wall so you will have some support.”
With some grunting and effort Ferrin soon leaned against the stone wall, legs long in front of him, breathing hard.
“Rest a moment, Ferrin. I have nothing to eat but I can bring more water.”
Ferrin gave her a grateful nod so she went for a third cup. When he had drunk that one he looked slightly stronger.
“First my message, Milady, as it is most important.”
Phaera said nothing, only nodded her understanding.
A frightened look came over Ferrin’s face. “Mathune … He has sent spies here. He means to capture you …”
Though the news was not unexpected, it still sent a shiver down her spine. “Thank you, Ferrin. I will inform the others. Your news does not surprise me. How long have you known of this?”
“Four days. I … sought out Lord Bain. Kort sent me. I found him at the border. Lord Bain said I must inform you at once – or Lady Flor, or Nurias – or the Captain of the guard. But those two guards would not believe me.”
“Do you know how many?”
“I am not certain but I believe there are at least four … and they mean to infiltrate the castle. They may be familiar to the court and be thought of as allies. I fear they may be here already. Please, Milady, you must all be careful.”
“Did you meet or hear of Nurias?”
“No, Milady. I passed close by her dwelling but as I needed to remain hidden I could not inquire after her. And I needed to inform you as quickly as I could.”
“I assure you, that has not gone unnoticed. Your bravery and loyalty will be rewarded.” Phaera rose from the floor, where she had been kneeling facing him. “Ferrin, in order that we do not arouse suspicion among the guards, lest they come back before I am able to, I must lock you in again. I am going to make arrangements to move you to more deserving quarters. You will not remain here long.”
“Thank you, Milady. I understand.”
“Let me help you back to where they left you. Rest until I return. I will come soon with help.” Phaera snuffed the second torch, left the first smouldering its last, and hurried in search of the captain of the guard. What is his name? Oh, yes, Raskir, Captain Raskir. Lord Makin said the captain knows of Kort’s men and will treat them as allies.
Along the way through the castle she came upon a worried Lady Flor. “You have been gone so long. Where did you go?”
“Come with me and I will tell you as we walk. There is not time to stop. We must speak with Captain Raskir.” As they strode side by side Phaera explained what had happened.
“Spies? Here already?”
“Likely, yes.” They exited the castle, flanked by four guards who joined them at the door, and headed for the practice yard where they knew the remaining guards not on duty would be sparring under the tutelage of the good Captain Raskir.
He spotted them as they approached and hurried over. When they had told him what they had learned he said, “That is bad news indeed. I know of the prisoner and have sent the two guards back to fetch him to me here in the guardhouse. Wait.” He looked around until he chose two of the better swordsmen and beckoned them over. “Two others have been sent to retrieve a prisoner here from the first cell in the dungeon. Find them quickly. Tell them my orders are to treat the prisoner as a guest and to show him every respect as they help him here. He is an ally, not an enemy.”
With a quick salute the two jogged off.
“Captain, the other two were very rough with Ferrin. I do hope they do not harm him further.”
The captain only looked at where the two men had gone, then beckoned Phaera and Lady Flor. “Come, I have been ordered to keep you both fully informed.” He ushered them into the guard room, indicated two stools, closed the door, and sat on the third stool facing them.
Lady Flor half rose. “Perhaps I should go and have a chamber prepared for our guest.”
The captain shook his head. “No Milady. Lord Makin insisted you be fully apprised. I think it prudent to remain and hear what Ferrin has to say, and what steps I decide to take to find these spies and see that you come to no harm.”
Lady Flor resumed her seat, her expression leaving no doubt that she had no wish to remain.
Chapter Twenty-Three
BELTHORN BORDER
Bain walked among the men. They had set up camp at the border where Marsten met both Kinterron and Belthorn. The day had been without incident. Bain grew impatient as he surveyed their fires and tents, knowing that they could go no further without reports from the scouts. He needed more information about Mathune’s whereabouts and what he and his men were doing. He also chafed at not being able to return to protect Phaera and the others at Marston Castle. Inactivity did not sit well with him.
A scout from Kinterron arrived with a message from Lord Danza. “Lord Bain, we have troops on the border further west and have set up camp there. Have you messages to take back to Lord Danza?”
A messenger from Lord Makin also showed up to say they had set up camp to the east. That meant four units, two from Marsten and two from Kinterron were stationed at strategic points, two on the Kinterron border and two on that of Marston.
Bain called the scouts together with Captain Reynce, around the small fire in front of his tent. It sat somewhat apart from the rest, providing some privacy but still well guarded. “As yet, we have received no word of reinforcements coming from our more northern allies. Scouts have been sent with that request. As none of them border on either Bethorn or Kinterron it is possible that they will wait to see if it is necessary.”
Bain turned to the two scouts. “Where is Mathune and has he shown his hand in any way? Tell us both what you know and what you suspect.”
Before the two could speak a skirmish broke out at the edge of the forest, from the direction of Kinterron. Two guards led a man roughly to the edge of the light from the fire. One asked, “May we approach, Milord?”
“Come.”
“Lord Bain, this man claims to have a message for you. We have disarmed him.” The soldier, a sneer on his face, held up a short, ornate dagger.
Bain met Captain Reynce’s eyes and received a small nod indicating he understood. “You may leave the dagger with me. Let the man be seated and bring food and ale for him. He is an ally.”
The man gave Bain a grateful look as he sank to the ground next to the scouts. “Thank you, milord.”
“You are welcome here. Tell us your name, sir, and the news you bring.” I will not mention Kort. Reynce is aware. Best to keep that secret from the scouts.
A soldier arrived with a bowl of stew and a large mug of ale, which, with a nod from the captain, he handed to the newcomer and hurried away.
“I am Kelthin, Milord, and come by way of Belthorn, near the border with Exalon. Mathune is amassing troops and making for that border.”
Bain nodded. “We have that area well protected.”
“But it is suspected that he uses this as a ruse, to draw help away from Exalon. He has imprisoned Erstine, son of Lord Dern. Lord Dern is dead, some say with help, as I suspect you are aware. With Erstine imprisoned in his castle Mathune is running amok in Exalon. There is no one to oppose him. He systematically, with his loyal cronies, hunts Erstine’s friends and any men of influence who had been loyal to Lord Dern. It is done in secret, under cover of darkness. In the mornings the people find the bodies, some mutilated, women and girls raped, children stabbed or throats cut. It is slaughter, Milord.” Kelthin paused and hung his head with a shudder. “Others he kills … in the most cruel ways.” The stew remained in the spoon untouched. He glanced at it. With another shudder he shook his head and set it aside.
Bain leaned toward him, picked up the cup of ale and placed it in the man’s hand. “Drink, Kelthin. You have need of it.”
Kelthin raised horror fill
ed eyes to Bain, took the cup as though in a daze, squeezed his eyes shut and gulped half of it down. When he met Bain’s gaze once more he whispered, “Such horror, Milord, such horror.”
“I understand. You need not say more about that. What else can you tell us? What do they say is Mathune’s aim in this?”
“The people of Exalon live in terror. More and more, they turn informant against their neighbours and friends. All of Exalon is in chaos. They warn that Mathune will publicly execute Erstine and take his place. He uses the promise of a return to order to prevent any rebellion against his coup.”
Captain Reynce broke in. “This looks like a purge to gain total control of a fief that has been in disarray for some time. The people desire order. That promise may well induce them to submit. What have you heard of incursions into Kinterron or Marston? You say there are troops at the border of Marston that appear not to threaten ours yet.”
“I have nothing more on the troops sent to the border at Marston, sir. But I believe the real threat is from Exalon.” Kelthin turned back to Bain. “I have no specific information, Milord, but based on the activities in Exalon I fear there may already be many spies in both Kinterron and Marston. Mathune brags …”
“Go on.”
“He brags that he will have Lady Phaera at any cost. That he cares not what he must do to get her, even if it means killing anyone in his way.” The man shot Bain a fearful glance but said no more.
Bain clenched his fists tight, hoping his panic did not show on his face. “There is more you are not saying. I must hear it.”
“Forgive me, Lord Bain. I cannot.”
Phaera! Bain scrubbed his face roughly with both hands. “No matter, I have heard enough.” If Ferrin was correct, it has already begun. And I can do nothing about it. I hope he reached Phaera to tell her. He took a deep breath. “This is not new to me, Kelthin. I received earlier information that he has sent spies to Marston and with just that purpose. I thank you for your service.”
Altered Destinies- Earth Reborn Page 13
