But then an unexpected burst of blue erupted from all sides of the king. Ugoth lurched to a stand, stumbled back two steps and landed on his knees again. The azure rippled over his frame, spiking with power here and there. His features no longer showed any pain, but his eyes started with fright. Herfod stalled just inches away. His hands, which had been reaching, withdrew.
“Herfod!” Ugoth gasped. “My heart!”
“What’s happening?” Captain Freden cried. “What’s this?”
“He is being attacked,” Herfod said clearly. He folded his shaking hands into his sleeves and stared numbly at Ugoth while the king gaped at him. Ugoth’s clawed fingers slowly fell away from his chest.
Keth arrived at Herfod’s side. “Attacked? By what?”
“A dark spell,” his mentor said flatly.
Keth gazed down at the glowing king in awe. “A dark spell!” he whispered.
“What is this blue glow about?” Captain Freden said. He had a hand to his sword hilt, but without an obvious enemy to attack, he hadn’t pulled the weapon.
“It’s a ward,” Keth answered. “A powerful one.” He looked at Brother Herfod. “How did you get a ward on him? I know you didn’t chant it just then. It was too sudden.”
“Herfod?” King Ugoth interjected. His voice still sounded panicked. “Why am I still glowing?”
“The spell is still attacking,” Herfod told him. “Be still. Relax. You’re safe.”
“It hurt so much,” he breathed.
“I know.” Herfod almost felt it, strange as that seemed. The attack had focused on Ugoth’s heart. The black spell had been worked to make the death appear natural. Herfod knelt before Ugoth and waited for the battle to play out. He was ready to mount another defence if necessary. “This attack was meant only for you,” he informed His Majesty.
They stared at each other with grim understanding. Ugoth had dared to touch what Marun considered his intimate property. Marun wanted him dead.
“What about this ward, then?” Brother Keth said. “I don’t see the device it’s fixed to. How did you set a ward on him directly? It moved with him! No one has every done such a thing.” He knelt at his mentor’s side and stared expectantly at him.
“Keth, it’s personal. Don’t ask,” Herfod said.
Keth looked uncertainly from the king to the revered monk. His expression resolved into understanding. “Oh,” he muttered. “That’s interesting. And disappointing.”
Herfod scowled. “Shut up, Keth!”
Keth sighed heavily and shut up. Every hopeful fantasy he’d ever had had just been dashed. He couldn’t compete with beautiful King Ugoth.
His regard settled once more on the anxious, shimmering king. Ugoth’s gaze remained fixed on Brother Herfod, all his trust placed thereon, and Keth realized the union made a strange and logical sense. Only the very blessed Herfod could have protected the king from such a vile spell. His love for the man had evidently created a potent ward and fixed it on Ugoth’s body instead of on a location or object on his person.
“The will of the gods is strange,” Keth murmured.
Ugoth’s gaze darted toward him. “The gods had nothing to do with this.”
“No,” Herfod agreed. “The question is how did Marun employ a spell this far from his actual location, and where did he get the material needed to work it?”
“Those are two questions, idiot.” Ugoth had lost the edge of panic now that the horrible pain had receded. Herfod’s ward showed no sign of failing him. He stared his arms in awe. There were snakes jumping out of his limbs, darting blue snakes.
“Idiot am I? Shut up! Shut up or I drop the ward!” Herfod snarled angrily, still upset and frightened.
Ugoth looked up and smiled his love at him. Herfod blinked tears of reaction down. The image kept playing in his mind, Ugoth thudding to his knees, the agony on his face, the shock and surprise. He didn’t ever want to see that again.
“Majesty, should I round up the witches for questioning?” Captain Freden said.
Herfod rejected the suggestion. “They didn’t do this,” he said.
“They had access to the king’s tent last night and this morning,” Prince Ufrid said angrily.
Herfod’s gaze snapped toward him. He surged to his feet. “You will leave the witches be. I will question them myself.”
“What can you hope to gain from that?” Ufrid sneered. “They’ll just lie to you.”
“I can hear lies. They’re as obvious to me as a black spot on a white sheet.”
Ufrid gaped at him, obviously stunned. “Very well,” he said after a moment. “I will let you question them.” He turned his stallion about and set it cantering off to the camp. The retreat was necessary. His heart thundered in his chest. He knew his face must be stark white. He was frightened beyond belief.
“Damn you, Marun!” Ufrid hissed. That bastard witch hadn’t warned him. The monk could have had him arrested for a traitor. Herfod had almost caught him earlier.
Herfod stared after Ufrid forebodingly. He didn’t like that man. He didn’t like him at all.
“Herfod?” Ugoth called.
Herfod looked down. The blue had faded to nothing. He grabbed an arm and pulled Ugoth up. “It’s all right. The spell has played out.”
“What about the ward?” Keth insisted. “Is it still on him? Do you need to put another?”
“It’s still there,” Herfod replied. “I’ll strengthen it later.” He addressed the crowd of soldiers and monks surrounding them. “Get on with you. It’s over. We have a bear to roast.”
“We have a shit pit to dig,” dutiful Oswell reminded.
“Gods bust it!” Herfod said testily. “You go back to your pavilion, then,” he snapped at Ugoth. “I’ll be up to see you later.” He stomped a few feet away, but the king grabbed his arm and pulled him back.
“Under the circumstances, I think Brother Samel will waive camp duties for you,” he said firmly. The second Herfod had turned away, Ugoth had felt the panic start again. He wasn’t letting that monk out of his sight. “You stay with me,” he directed.
“He’s right,” Keth said to Herfod, expression grim. “You need to stay with him. You stay with him from now on. You’re the only one with the grace to ward off these sorts of attacks. We’ll go see Samel. We’ll let him know you’ll be staying at the king’s side for the remainder of the war.” He waved a sloppy farewell as the gang started off toward the camp. “We’ll check on you after the pit is dug,” he promised.
Herfod stared after them in surprise. He looked at Ugoth. Their gazes met. A corner of the king’s lips lifted in a pleased curl. “Samel wanted me to stay in the Saint Turamen section as much as possible,” Herfod mentioned casually.
“He said something the same to me,” Ugoth admitted.
“Well, he’s not going to have it that way!” Captain Freden said strongly. “You need Brother Herfod with you. This sorcerer must know you can beat him, Majesty. You’ve got him scared. You keep Brother Herfod with you. We’ll get another cot in the pavilion right off, Majesty. Don’t worry. That evil bastard won’t get another chance at you with Brother Herfod handy.”
“No, of course not.” Ugoth grinned to himself. “I wonder how quickly that rug can be cured?”
“What was that, Majesty?” Freden asked.
“Nothing.” Ugoth pushed bemused Brother Herfod toward his horse. “Mount.”
Herfod obeyed silently. Ugoth set himself astride his stallion, and Freden called his men into formation. Surrounded by the nervous guards, the king and his monk rode the remaining distance to the pavilion.
A short while later, Ugoth and Herfod entered the structure, where they stood in the centre staring at each other in absolute awe and dread, the awe radiating from Ugoth, the dread from Herfod, who worried what Marun might try next. Ugoth, however, wondered how Herfod had known to set a moving ward on him.
“How did you know that would happen?” he whispered. His squire had just left the tent. They
could hear him outside, calling for bath water to be drawn for the king’s tub.
“I didn’t know,” Herfod said. “I had no idea what I was doing when I warded you.”
“That excuse is getting tiresome. You knew somehow. This moving ward …? Keth thought it was special. Why can’t anyone but you do it?”
“Gods bust it!” Herfod snarled. “Go pray to the gods for answers!”
“That’s your job!” Ugoth snarled back. “Haven’t you gotten any answers? Was this ward one of their answers?”
“What? Answers?” Herfod whispered. He moved away, still stunned by the peril that had threatened his friend and king. His hands crept across his scalp, and they were shaking visibly. “Answers. There’s the thing.”
“Herfod!” Ugoth hauled him back. “What are you avoiding now?” He shook the slighter man.
“Leave off!” Herfod shoved him backward. “I never get answers!”
“What? You never get answers?”
“No! Not usually.”
Ugoth frowned in puzzlement. “Do you not pray?”
“I pray! I do all the chants the same as anyone else! I get blessings!”
Or at least he thought he did. Sometimes, however, Herfod felt as if the energy of healing bled solely from him, somehow rising from his core and oozing out his skin, but this had to be wrong. It had to be. There was interest when he prayed for healings, a lot of it, though it did smack of the same godly presence every time.
Ugoth was looking expectantly at him. “Then what do you ask for when you beg guidance?”
Herfod looked mulishly back. “Nothing! I ask nothing!” he snapped, admitting the truth at last. “I say the prayers by rote and that’s all.”
Ugoth’s curious frown turned into an astonished gape. “You ask nothing? But you’re a monk. What about the healings? The wards?”
Herfod scowled and stomped away.
“Herfod! Get back here and quit avoiding my questions!”
“I didn’t want to be a monk!” Herfod cried, whirling toward him. “I did it to hide! What right have I to ask for advice? For anything? I’m nothing but a coward in a habit!”
Ugoth stared at him. Slowly his lips curled upward. He began to laugh. The chuckles quickly developed into outright guffaws. He wept tears, he laughed so hard.
“That’s not funny!” Herfod said, by now flushed red from embarrassment.
Marten walked back in. His own lips turned up. “What’s he laughing about?” he asked the flustered monk.
Ugoth howled yet louder. He sat on the canvas, holding his sides to contain the mirth, but to no avail. The monk faced about and stared at the further pavilion wall. He folded his arms and stood with a stiff, angry posture. Marten realized they were quarrelling again. Sighing, he informed the king his bath would be brought in shortly and retreated from the tent after a quick bow.
Ugoth heard Herfod stomp up. The thump on the top of Ugoth’s head cut the laughter off abruptly. “Ow!” He scowled up at Herfod. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“You were distraught,” Herfod said.
“I’ll give you distraught, you lying bastard!” Ugoth leapt up and went after him. Herfod skipped aside. Ugoth halted a few feet off. “What do you mean you’re a coward? You’re not a coward. You were only fifteen, for gods’ sakes. You had to flee. You needed the protection of the monastery.”
“And I’ve been using it since. Helping to educate you was only an attempt at being useful,” Herfod said derisively.
“Really? Well, you did a good job. You did a good job with everything. You did everything a monk should do. Except pray for advice! If the gods had thought you unworthy, they’d not have granted any wards and blessings, would they?”
“I hid behind Vik for seven years,” Herfod said, as if to prove how contemptible he was.
Ugoth cast the sin away. “You were a child. Vik did what he had to do to protect you. He’s your big brother.”
“Would you do for Ufrid what he did for me?” Herfod demanded hotly.
“Gods no!” Ugoth said immediately. He blinked in mortification at his reproachful friend. “You know it’s not the same thing,” he protested. “I’m not like Vik.”
Herfod’s glower only grew darker.
“I wasn’t,” Ugoth amended hastily. “Not until I met you!” He roared the last. Swearing angrily, he stomped away from the bitter man he’d been attempting to soothe. He stared at the missives waiting for him on the large table, but made no effort to read any. Damn that monk. Ugoth felt he had been better off with just Nicky. She made more sense. She was just a simple slut.
“Gods!” Just thinking of her put an ache in his guts. He loved her enough to strangle her for giving him this horrible empty feeling. And for leaving him alone with that insane Herfod.
He looked up. Herfod still glowered unhappily at the canvas flooring. “Herfod?”
“What?” Herfod answered, glancing over.
“I want you to sneak out tonight and check on her.”
Herfod frowned in surprise. “I thought you didn’t want me to take the risk.”
“After what happened? I think you’re a lot more protected than we both thought. Go and find her.”
Herfod nodded agreement. “After I see that the ward on you is stronger.”
Ugoth prickled with tension. “By seeing that it’s stronger, do you mean doing what you did this morning?”
“I have no idea!” Herfod cried. “I don’t know how I did it!”
“Gods! Just do it, Herfod. I can’t stop thinking about it in any case.”
Herfod stared. Ugoth’s lips curled upward. Herfod flushed bright red, but smiled softly in response. Ugoth grabbed several missives and tossed two at him. Herfod snatched them from the air.
“You start with those,” Ugoth commanded. “That should keep us busy until the bath arrives.”
“Fine.”
“Unless you’d like to pray for guidance, that is?” Ugoth suggested.
“Oh, shut up!”
Ugoth grinned and sat in his favourite chair. “You know, it’s odd that a monk who doesn’t pray for guidance gives such excellent advice.”
“Shut up, Ugoth!” Herfod stomped over to the second chair and slammed his butt down on it.
“You’re a very odd monk,” Ugoth went on complacently. “Very blessed, I suppose.”
Herfod almost screamed at him. The bathtub arrived. He snapped his mouth shut. They watched as soldiers set the copper tub on the canvas covers. Buckets of water arrived next. In between buckets, Brother Samel rushed in. He stared at the two of them, who were seated quietly, unopened missives in their laps. Both looked at him inquiringly.
“I just heard. I was with the witches. Keth found me and told me what happened.”
“And?” King Ugoth said calmly.
“Well, you have to tell me how to do this ward, Herfod.”
“The ward?” Herfod repeated stupidly.
“The moving ward Keth mentioned. No one’s ever made a moving ward, except on an object, that is.” Samel looked eagerly at the young man, thinking too rapidly. “Was that it? Did you ward an item on Ugoth’s person?” He answered himself immediately. “No. That wouldn’t have been powerful enough to save him from a dark spell of this magnitude. He’d have needed to be within a warded chamber.” He moved forward eagerly. “How did you do it? Tell me the chant. Quick! We can use it on the entire army.”
Inexplicably, the younger monk flushed scarlet and then became very white. He looked sideways at the king. The king, even more curiously, ducked his head down to hide his bright red face. Samel gaped at them.
“What’s going on?” he said, but was suddenly very sure he didn’t want to hear the answer.
“I didn’t chant the ward,” Herfod whispered. There were soldiers coming in and out of the pavilion with buckets of water. Raising his voice, he lied outrageously. “The gods granted me this favour once for the king. I cannot ask it of them again.”
Sever
al interested soldiers glanced at them and nodded as if they’d guessed as much. Their buckets were duly poured and out they went to gossip what they had just overheard.
“What?” Samel whispered. “You didn’t chant it? What did you do, then?”
Herfod’s skin crimsoned again. “Don’t make me tell you. I have no idea how it happened.”
Samel stared down at him. He looked at King Ugoth. Ugoth gazed anywhere but at him. As Samel gaped, His Majesty opened a missive. Samel could see the words clearly, because the parchment was upside down. Belatedly, Ugoth turned it about.
“Herfod?” Samel said.
“Yes, Brother Samel?” Brother Herfod answered meekly.
“You stay with His Majesty from now on and look after his continued safety.”
“Yes, Brother Samel.”
“That means His Majesty must come with you after the bath to see to the training of the witches and monks,” Samel added quickly. “And hurry it up! There’s not much light left in the day.”
“Have a few of the brothers chant up some fixed light around the field,” Herfod murmured back.
“Oh. Fine, then. But no dawdling!” He turned to the king. “You’ll hurry with the bath, Majesty?”
“Of course,” Ugoth muttered without looking at him.
Nodding, Samel left the pavilion. Outside, he glared at the darkening sky. “What are you doing?” he cried. Were the gods mad?
At once contrite, he prayed in penitence for the wicked thought. Afterward, he reasoned that the gods must have had cause for putting Herfod firmly in Ugoth’s arms.
That must be it. Herfod was meant to protect him.
“But like that?” Brother Samel shouted.
Soldiers stared at him in surprise. Samel snapped his mouth shut and thumped away. He was astounded. He was confused. He was furious. He had to go off somewhere quiet and pray for guidance. “Blast you, Herfod!” he whispered. “If the gods wanted this, why didn’t you tell me? You could have made it easier and told me yourself!”
If Ugoth had heard him, he would have laughed. Samel might have laughed as well, if he’d known the truth. But now? Now Samel was too worn with worries over the coming conflict to feel like laughing over anything. Marun had already executed the first assault, and they weren’t even days from the front. Samel couldn’t help wonder what the sorcerer would attempt next.
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