The Defender

by Rachel Rossano

  The soldier, smelling of sweat and sour wine, grabbed my left arm and dragged me out from among them. I didn’t want to bring harm to the women around me. The soldier would injure many before subduing me. I allowed him to pull me toward the commander with only minimal resistance.

  Once free of the captives, however, I yanked from the man’s grip in an attempt to run. Three pairs of rough hands caught hold of my arms before I managed more than a few steps. The stench of their unclean bodies turned my stomach. I gagged as I fought them. They dragged me through the dust and dumped me at his feet.

  I struggled up only to be brought down again. Pressure behind my knees forced me to kneel.

  I lifted my face to glare at the commander.

  “Remove her hood.”

  Someone pulled my cloak half off my shoulders in his enthusiasm. Red curls fell free in a wild mass about my shoulders.

  Silently I cursed the color. If only I had been blessed with plain brown or even blond tresses, I could have hidden in plain sight.

  “My Lady Brielle Solarius, I presume.”

  He had the audacity to meet my glare. His eyes were only glimmers beneath the beaten metal and leather of his helmet. He made no bow or any show of the honor due me. I was a noblewoman. I didn’t claim the right of deference often, but still the fact remained.

  “Might I know your name, barbarian?”

  His reaction did not change his posture. I could not read his emotions.

  “Lord Irvaine is no barbarian.”

  The soldier at my left, a young man barely my senior, shoved me between the shoulders. I resisted, pressing back against his hand despite the burning in my thighs from the effort. Finally I shrugged him off.

  Anger filled me, blinding my reason. Caution, a weak flicker of light in the night of anger, wavered and almost went out. The darkness like a living thing, growing ever stronger, pressed me more closely every second I lingered, waiting to hear my fate. I could not lose control. My people were counting on me. Their families were under my watch.

  “By what right am I treated like this? I am a noble of Rhynan, born of an ancient house and loyal to King Trentham.”

  “Trentham is dead.” Lord Irvaine lifted a gauntleted hand and pointed off to the south. “He fell in battle a fortnight past. Mendal of Ranterland is now king.”

  Panic clutched my chest. Old stories of the unrest that followed a coup flooded my mind. Allegiances sifting with the wind and the death toll rising despite the end of hostilities as the disloyal were killed off and the loyal rewarded.

  “My cousin, Orwin?”

  “Sworn allegiance to my liege, but his sincerity is suspect. You are King Mendal’s guarantee from Orwin that he will remain faithful.”

  I laughed, a bitter sound despite my efforts to quell it.

  “I am a worthless pawn for that purpose. Orwin cares not for my safety. My peril will not hinder his plans a hair’s breadth.”

  “Your peril is not my goal. I seek your submission.”

  Before I could seek clarification, another helmeted soldier approached. This one moved like a man with a purpose. The sudden silence and tension of the men around me clearly marked his importance.

  “All are accounted for, my lord, thirty-five women of marriageable age, twenty-five dwellings with potential to last the winter.”

  “The lord’s hall?”

  “Usable also, given time for cleaning and repair.”

  Lord Irvaine nodded. “Take the quartermaster and assign wives. See to it that the men show respect and offer the women the option to purchase refusal. Give care to look up the fate of their previous mates before presenting them to the officiate for vow recording. Warn the men that I will suffer no abuse. If such is discovered, the offender shall lose his share of spoils and suffer further punishment based on the crime.”

  The soldier bowed and retreated.

  “By what right do you do this?” I demanded. “We are citizens of Rhynan, not cattle to be divided and claimed. These are free women not slaves.”

  Lord Irvaine’s displeasure at my words was evident in his stiffened stance. I savored my small victory.

  “They, you, and this land are tribute to King Mendal from your cousin, part of his measures to convince the king of his shift in allegiance.”

  “You take pleasure in raping women and possessing land not your own? You are no better than the robber barons over the border. They take what they wish without compensating us. You defile the title of noble, my lord!” I spat the title into the torn earth at his feet.

  Answering anger tensed his left arm as his fingers curled into a fist. I lifted my chin and awaited the blow that would reveal his true nature. Instead, he pulled his helmet from his head. Dark, sweat-matted hair plastered his head and dirt streaked down his hollowed cheeks from dark circles around his eyes. He dropped his helm to the ground at my knees. It rolled to rest against my thigh. He stepped forward and leaned down so close I smelled his sweat. I noted the lack of sour wine on his breath.

  “Look in my face, Lady Solarius, and see the truth. I take no joy from this task. But I am a loyal soldier. I do as my master bids.”

  His dark, haunted eyes bore into mine. Something deep inside my chest stirred. However, anger still possessed my tongue.

  “I see only a monster intent on unleashing his pleasure-seeking men on a village of unarmed women and children.”

  He flinched, a barely perceptible movement in his features.

  “Enough.” Rising to his feet with more grace than I expected, he strode away. “Antano!” A burly man, helmetless and carrying more visible weapons than the other men in the group, answered the call.

  “My lord?”

  “See that she observes the operation, but doesn’t interfere. Then escort her to my quarters by nightfall.”

  “Aye, my lord.” Antano approached respectfully. “This way, my lady.”

  I watched Lord Irvaine stride away among his men. As I rose from the dust, I picked up the helmet. It was heavy, but well made. The leather felt worn and supple. What kind of man hid behind its surface?

  I offered it to my escort.

  “Nay, bring it with you, lady.” Antano loomed over me. “You can return it to him tonight. For now, we must go. He wishes for you to see how your women are treated.”

  He crossed the now empty village center toward the lord’s hall, due east. I followed him, dreading the hours to come. Despite the fleeting inclination to leave it behind, I carried Lord Irvaine’s helmet with me.

  Duty is now available in print and ebook formats along with other books in the series.

  Living Sacrifice

  The Talented ♦ Book Three

  Chapter I

  Zezilia

  Hibernus thundered in around us within a month of Hadrian’s departure. My days became an endless cycle of prayer, study, writing, and then training with my ferrum. The constant routine kept me sane. If my mind and body were occupied, I could ignore the gnawing sensation that I remained only half a person.

  I found myself repeating the same prayer. Open my eyes, Almighty, to your will. However, my heart constantly ached for a single answer. It became a daily struggle to honestly say, Your will, Almighty.

  Ferrum practice helped. Every day I tested my skills, the wilder the wind the better. After establishing a field of energy, thinning it into a bubble barely thick enough to block all the distractions, I went through stretches, drills, and exercises while maintaining my defensive shield. In general, most of the other inhabitants of the compound left me alone. I had determined it was better that way.

  I embraced the isolation. Deep thought filled the hours easily enough. I spent time with Errol and his family twice a week when I joined them for a meal. I attended the prayer and Revelation teaching meetings with the other followers of the Almighty twice a week, but I kept to myself during them. I attempted to convince myself I was content. My efforts were rarely successful.

  Then one afternoon in mid practice, my s
ense of control dissipated with the wind I had welcomed.

  “Do you have a death wish?”

  I lowered my weapon from an attack position and turned toward the speaker. Madame Arnata regarded me sharply from beneath her finely arched brows. Her usual impassively calm features portrayed surprise and concern. A few feet behind her stood two young women about my age, their early twenties. They half covered their faces with their hooded cloaks against the ice sharpened wind.

  “No, Madame, I am simply drilling as I do every day.”

  “Out here?”

  “Yes. None of buildings have spaces large enough for ferrum practice.”

  “So you expose yourself to the brutal elements of a northern winter to keep up your skills?”

  “A defender must be ready when needed.” Hadrian didn’t want me. The thought didn’t hurt as much as it used to. Regardless, I still needed to be prepared. I had an oath to uphold.

  She studied me for a moment. “You are the female defender the sept son brought from the south.”

  I glanced down at myself. My usual distinctive blue uniform hid beneath layers of winter clothing. No amount of energy shielding could protect against cold. “Yes. I am Defender Ilar.”

  “First name?”

  “Zezilia.”

  She nodded. “I am Madame Penelopa Arnata, Head Healer.”

  “I know.”

  Her eyes narrowed, but her manner remained neutral. “Master Silas directed me to deliver these girls to you.”

  “Why?” The word slipped out before it registered that asking so bluntly would be rude. “Pardon, but he didn’t mention anything about it to me. What does he expect me to do?”

  “Teach them.” Her eyes narrowed again. “He is overcommitted and barely managing the young ones. The older students need attention too.”

  I studied the girls more closely. Both of them averted their gazes. The taller one eyed my blade nervously. The shorter woman lifted her chin when I focused on her. Clearly both were as unsure of this new development as I.

  Madame Arnata continued. “Also, my patient wards are understaffed and the volunteers I have are undertrained for the work needed. You have the look of a woman who needs more to do. What say you to learning something new?”

  Visions of the stack of books, notes, and exercises that awaited me back in Hadrian’s quarters filled my head. I wasn’t inclined to add to my studies.

  “My days are full of studies.”

  “I am not referring to intellectual exercises. I speak of real hand-dirtying, practical work. Feeding, bathing, communicating with those without voice, restraining those who break free, lifting, carrying, and cleaning. I will send you to bed too weary to do anything beyond sleep. Does that sound appealing?”

  Three sets of interested eyes regarded me.

  The prospect of a good night’s sleep did appeal. Hadrian’s absence had triggered panicked dreams of chasing him across barren countryside. I always woke by leaping from bed, sleep a distant memory as I struggled to calm my racing heart and ease the tension in my chest. Exhaustion meant no energy to worry or wonder about the man so often invading my thoughts. Perhaps it would even dispel the dreams.

  Apparently seeing my answer in my expression, Madame Arnata nodded firmly. “Come to the healer’s building after the noon meal tomorrow. I will wear you out.” She turned back to the path toward the wards.

  My new students and I stood staring at each other for a few heartbeats. Give me wisdom, I prayed.

  Finally realizing they weren’t going to disappear or speak first, I dropped my energy field. The short one jumped as though I stuck her with a pin.

  “You saw that?” I asked her.

  She muttered something in reply.

  “Pardon, I didn’t hear you.” I dropped my gaze in hopes it would make my questioning less intimidating. I wiped and sheathed my ferrum while I waited for the answer.

  “Yes.” Her voice was soft and hesitant.

  I ventured a glance and our gazes met. “Good.” Holding her attention, I smiled warmly. “It is a start.”

  She looked down again. “Lorrium—”

  “—her husband—” the taller woman added.

  “—he said it was a good thing.” It was clear from the way she spoke his name that she felt a great deal of affection for the man she married.

  “My husband beat me if I mentioned anything he considered a manifestation of Talent,” the tall one volunteered.

  Uncomfortable with broaching that subject yet, I nodded my understanding before striding over to pick up my gear satchel.

  “You two know my name, but I am afraid I don’t know yours.”

  “Lotus,” the tall one volunteered.

  “Ariana.” The shorter one stepped toward me hesitantly as though half afraid in her bravery. “What should we call you?”

  “Zez works best for most people.” I walked toward the path, already trying to figure out if it was appropriate for me to take them to my usual studying place in Hadrian’s quarters. I knew of no better location. Perhaps I could find a spare copy or two of the Revelation and the Talents Code in the stacks of books that filled his study.

  The women followed without being asked. I touched my amoveo and created my usual energy shield against the wind. It spread it wide enough so all of us were sheltered. Ariana jumped when I brought it up. Lotus didn’t acknowledge its presence until the wind suddenly stopped pushing on her. Then she lifted her head and looked about for the evidence of my energy field.

  I expected her to question it at any moment, but it was Ariana who spoke first.

  “Is it true that you are related to Ostin Ilar, the man claiming the high king’s throne?”

  “Ari!” Lotus hissed her horror at Ariana’s insensitivity.

  “Yes.” I glanced over at Ariana. “I am his daughter, but I do not share his views or support his claim to the throne.”

  “But how could you not?”

  I stopped so abruptly that the girls almost walked into me. Turning to examine Ariana’s face more closely, I waited for her to explain herself.

  Lotus beat me to the question. “How could you say that? You don’t support the usurper.”

  “But she is his daughter,” Ari protested.

  “And you did everything your father told you to do?” Lotus demanded.

  Ari blushed quite prettily. “But—”

  “Don’t listen to her,” Lotus advised. “She ran off with a handsome man her father told her to avoid and ended up in the mess she is in because of it. What number child is this?” Lotus jabbed a finger toward Ariana’s cloaked middle.

  Tears filled Ari’s eyes. “Just because you can’t—”

  Lotus turned white with anger before Ari completed her sentence. “Never! I told you to never say—”

  I dropped my shield. Frigid air pounded into us, silencing the two women. I reestablished the shield a moment later so they could hear me.

  “In my presence, you will speak civilly to each other. If you don’t, I shall talk to Errol about seeking other arrangements. I surmise from the fact you two are here that you want to learn to use your talent ability. Am I right?”

  The affirmative duet was a start.

  “That said, I do want to learn more about you. Since that is such a difficult topic at the moment, we don’t have to speak as we walk.”

  I dropped my energy shield and the wind howled as it rushed in to bombard us again. I walked pointedly off toward my haven, mentally thanking the Almighty for the years I had spent in the Silas household. Without them, I would have been completely unprepared for the joined forces behind me. Having lived with fractious females, I dreaded the training and teaching to come.

  The wind changed direction when we turned down the path to Hadrian’s former quarters. It chased us through the garden and blew us across the threshold when I opened the door. Every loose piece of parchment in the room beyond scattered like leaves. I wrestled the door closed again behind us. I turned, shaking ice
water from my cloak, to find my two companions regarding me in shock.

  “This is the sept son’s dwelling.” Lotus gestured to the tables stacked with volumes, thick carpets on the floors, and Hadrian’s spare cloak and boots stowed in the alcove next to the door. “Doesn’t he mind you living here?”

  My stomach tightened in a sudden wave of panic. This was a mistake. “I am his student.”

  Ariana’s eyes widened. Lotus’ gaze narrowed.

  “I study here while he is traveling.”

  “And when he returns?” Lotus asked.

  “I will probably continue to study here.”

  “It isn’t as though she sleeps here,” Ariana pointed out to Lotus.

  “But—”

  “The sept son is not an Elitist.” I stated it with a finality that I hoped would cut off any further questions. He didn’t believe that those with talent were superior to those without. “I am not his wife.”

  Ariana nodded in understanding.

  Lotus’ suspicion buffeted my energy senses. I chose to ignore it. In hopes of keeping the women off the sensitive topic, I began telling them about my history while I searched the shelves for extra copies of the Revelation and the Talents Code. I found two spare code books, but all copies of the Revelation were strangely missing.

  “You expect us to memorize that?” Lotus’ tone echoed the incredulity that washed over my amoveo-enhanced senses. “I won’t.”

  “Then I won’t be training you.”

  Her mouth tightened into a pursed frown as she studied my features, most likely to determine my tenacity.

  I did not relent.

  “Master Silas will hear of this.” Lotus’ tone betrayed her uncertainty.

  “I would expect nothing else. I believe you will find he agrees. He requires the same of all of his students. Any non-Elitist tutor would do the same.”

  Lotus sniffed and grabbed the book. Leafing through the pages as I offered the second copy to Ariana, Lotus harrumphed and grunted as she read.