A Clasp for Heirs

by Morgan Rice

  “It seems that neither of you have earned your reward,” he said. He pointed to his crows. “They will take days about eating you as we travel. All of you, with me! We ride to Monthys!”

  The men left, following their leader. Cora might even have felt relief at that, except then the crows descended, claws extended.

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  Henry d’Angelica stood in the fields before Loris’ home, surrounded by so many men that it made him dizzy just to think about them. He stood there holding Witchsnare, the spear probably drawing at least as much of their awe as he could. Imogen and Loris stood nearby, and perhaps another man might have thought that they were basking in the reflected glory of it all, but he was grateful for their presence.

  Imogen’s especially.

  No, he wouldn’t think like that. He forced himself to concentrate on the crowd of soldiers around him rather than on anything to do with her. It was the only safe way. Henry lifted the spear like a banner, calling for silence.

  “All of you have heard the stories,” he shouted, although he doubted that any man could shout loud enough to reach all of them. “You know what this is: the spear of Thom Witchbane!”

  They cheered, and if Loris and Imogen were the ones prompting that, Henry didn’t mind. What mattered was that the men saw this, and understood that they now had the power to take down their enemies. Imogen had been right about that, which meant…

  Which meant he had to demonstrate that power.

  Soldiers pushed forward a ragged looking figure in leathers, a man of perhaps twenty, but little more than that. He was strongly built, and taller than Henry. No doubt that was deliberate. It would have looked bad for him to cut down someone smaller and weaker. Henry felt bad enough as it was, even though this man was a witch, and thus the enemy of all good people.

  “What is your name?” Henry demanded of the man.

  “Nils,” he shot back after a moment’s thought.

  “And you are a witch, are you not?”

  “I’m a warrior of Stonehome,” the man replied. “Let me out of these ropes, and I’ll show you how much of one.”

  “In a moment,” Henry said, which probably wasn’t what the other man was expecting at all. He certainly seemed surprised by it.

  “You? You think you’re going to out fight me?” he demanded.

  Henry nodded. “No doubt you have magic though, to give you the advantage. Why not tell people what you can do?”

  “So you know exactly what I’m going to do to you?” Nils said.

  Henry stood there, annoyed that anyone should suggest he would seek that kind of advantage, even as he knew that he had a much bigger one in his hands. “So that my warriors see the danger you would normally represent, and my victory is greater when I fight you.”

  Nils shrugged. “If you really want. I have more speed and strength than you. I can read most folks’ thoughts, too.”

  “A dangerous foe,” Henry declared to his waiting men. “One who could read the moves of an opponent before they made them, strike harder than any man has a right to, and move so fast you could never hope to defend. Yet I shall stand against him in single combat!”

  Nils gave him a look of mistrust. “And what do I get for playing your game?”

  Henry had already prepared his answer for that. He had known that a man like this would never fight simply for the honor of it.

  “I am king of this land,” Henry said. “And I declare this to be a trial by combat! Succeed, and you will be innocent of all your crimes, free to go!”

  The other man still looked around as if unsure whether to believe it or not. Only when one of Henry’s soldiers cut him free and handed him a two handed blade did he look more confident.

  “You’re serious about this, then?” Nils said.

  “I am,” Henry replied.

  “Then die!”

  He charged forward, sword swinging. He was fast, and it was a skillful blow, but it wasn’t nearly as fast as it might have been. Henry felt the spear thrumming in his hand, and somehow he knew that it was absorbing the magic that would have made this man too fast to fight.

  He parried the blow with the spear, feeling the jarring impact, but there wasn’t as much strength there as there might have been, either. Henry shifted to the side, taking up his stance while the other man looked confused.

  “What have you done?”

  “Forced you to fight as a man, not a monster!” Henry replied.

  Nils charged forward again, sword slashing in cut after cut. Henry gave ground, deflecting blows and moving aside from others. Finally, he planted his feet, set his grip, and thrust.

  The spear took the witch through the chest, stopping his forward momentum and leaving him with a look of shock as he stared down at it. Henry felt the weight of him as he collapsed, and put a foot on him, dragging the spear from the now dead man’s corpse to hold the bloody weapon high.

  The cheer from the men around him was almost overwhelming.

  Henry didn’t feel their elation. He stared down at the man there, so still and shocked looking in death. He didn’t look different to anyone human, didn’t seem at all demonic in his death. It was hard not to look at him and feel sorrow for the killing that Henry had just enacted. The fact that it had been easy only seemed to make it worse.

  Loris and Imogen didn’t seem to share that sorrow, though. They came up to him, Loris clapping Henry on the back, Imogen resting an arm on his.

  “Amazing,” Loris said. “Truly amazing!”

  “It works,” Imogen whispered. “I knew that you could do this, Henry.”

  “Goddess save the king!” his men started to shout. “Death to witches!”

  The strangest part was that, after this, Henry wasn’t so sure that he wanted to kill anyone. He stumbled back in the direction of Loris’ home, leaning on the spear for support. Somehow, he’d thought that killing witches would feel different.

  “I’ll find a servant to get us drinks to celebrate,” Loris said, as they reached the house. “Our finest brandy!”

  He set off in search of it before Henry could protest that this wasn’t a moment to celebrate.

  “He won’t be back for a while,” Imogen said. She took his hand. “Come with me and tell me why you’re feeling so sad at a moment you should be happy about.”

  “Is it that obvious?” Henry asked.

  She kissed his cheek. “It is to me.”

  Henry didn’t even try to argue with her about the kiss this time. Instead, he pulled her into the nearest available empty room, a small study, and shut the door firmly behind them.

  “Here?” Imogen asked.

  Henry kissed her. “I’ve been holding back because of what I should be, yet here, now, I feel as though all I should do is a lie.”

  “You’re succeeding, though,” Imogen said. “You have the power to finally defeat your enemies.”

  “Yet, looking at that poor man… I wonder if I can truly hate them, Imogen. Without his powers, he was just flesh and blood.”

  “We’re all flesh and blood,” Imogen said. “And if you don’t succeed, we might find out just how fragile we all are. Do you think the others will suffer anyone who has declared himself king to live?”

  “No, I…”

  “You’re thinking too much,” Imogen said, pulling him to her and kissing him, laying back on the study’s desk and holding out a hand to him. “Sometimes, it’s better not to think.”

  Henry nodded, set aside Lord Thomasin’s spear, and went to her.

  ***

  Henry was still lying beside Imogen when the knock came thundering at the door.

  “What is it?” he demanded, hurrying to dress. “Who is it?”

  “Your majesty,” a servant called from beyond the door, “there’s a man who says he must speak with you.”

  “There are always men saying that,” Henry snapped back, without opening the door. “It seems that everyone from dukes to the butler needs to speak to me. I’ll see
him in good time!”

  “He says that he knows the location of the traitor, Sebastian of house Flamberg.”

  Henry was over to the door in an instant, opening it and stepping through, only remembering when he was halfway through doing it that the man would get a glimpse of Imogen, still only half dressed there. He shut the door quickly behind him.

  “Take me to him, now,” Henry instructed. He followed along at something close to a jog while the servant led the way to a small receiving room.

  The man inside it looked like one of the kingdom’s former soldiers. He had been disarmed, and a pair of Henry’s men sat there, along with Loris. The sight of his friend only made guilt rise in him.

  “Who are you?” Henry demanded. “How do you claim to know the whereabouts of Sebastian the traitor?”

  “My name is O’Llan,” the man said. “I know where he is heading, because I met him on the road after the fall of Stonehome.”

  “You’re a witch?” Henry demanded. His fingers reached for Lord Thomasin’s spear, but it wasn’t there. It was still back with Imogen, and the thought of that just made his guilt all the greater.

  The man shook his head though. “A soldier, your majesty. When Ashton fell, I got caught up in the crowds of refugees.”

  Meaning that he was a deserter. Still, if he had news, Henry could ignore it.

  “Where is he?” Henry demanded.

  “He’s headed to Monthys,” O’Llan said, “and I believe… I believe that the New Army is following him.”

  Loris looked around, and Henry half expected there to be a look of accusation on his face. Instead, he looked eager.

  “This is our chance, Henry,” he said. “Don’t you see it? At least two of our enemies will be in one place, weakened after the fall of Ashton. We can strike!”

  If it hadn’t been for what had just happened with Imogen, perhaps Henry would have counselled caution, and letting the foes burn themselves out. Instead, he knew that he couldn’t stay here now. He couldn’t risk the temptation again. He couldn’t betray Loris like that.

  “You’re right,” he said. “I will ride for Monthys with the army at once. You men, prepare yourselves. Loris, take a contingent and defend things here for my return.”

  “Defend things? I need to help you!”

  “And you are helping,” Henry commanded. “I need you and Imogen safe after all you’ve done. I need people I can trust here. I’m sorry, Loris, but there’s no time to argue. Your king commands it, and I… I have to ride to finish this!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  Sebastian ran from the inn, trying to find signs of the people who had taken Violet. It couldn’t have been long, or he would have noticed, wouldn’t he? He hadn’t been away for Violet for long, so they couldn’t have gotten much of a head start. At least, he prayed that it was true.

  “Have you seen my baby?” Sebastian demanded, as he ran out into the inn’s main yard, Edmore and Valin running out there with him. They had their hands on their weapons, as if there might be someone there to fight, rather than a group of sullen looking local inhabitants, standing there staring at them without comment.

  “My baby!” Sebastian shouted to them again. “She’s been taken.”

  One of the men there shrugged, and Sebastian grabbed him, hard enough that he all but lifted the man from his feet.

  “Don’t just stand there shrugging!” Sebastian yelled at him, not knowing what else to do. “Don’t pretend as though you didn’t see anything.”

  Valin and Edmore managed to pull him back, and the man backed away. One of the women there made a vague gesture in the direction of the back of the inn.

  “Might have seen some people back there,” she said.

  “And no one did anything?” Sebastian demanded.

  “Thought they were just trying to rob you,” the woman said. “Didn’t know there was a babe involved.”

  Sebastian tried to work out what kind of people were happy to stand back and let others be robbed, but he already knew the answer to that: they were just the people from the kingdom that his mother and brother had helped to make.

  He ran around in the direction that the woman had pointed, and from down there, he thought he could make out the spot where the people who had broken in must have entered, the hole to their attic room obvious from here. Looking around, Sebastian could see a mess of footprints down below the window, suggesting that there had been a whole group of people there, and that this had been more than just a random attack.

  “I can’t work out which way they went,” Sebastian said to the others. He could feel himself panicking in a way that he knew would never help, but that he couldn’t stop. He ran down to the front of the inn, looking in both directions along the road, hoping to catch some glimpse of riders in the distance.

  “Can you see them?” Sebastian demanded of the others. Both Valin and Edmore shook their heads, obviously just as anxious to get Violet back as he was.

  “Either they left further back than we think, or they didn’t come this way,” Valin said.

  Sebastian wanted to snap that the other man wasn’t helping by pointing out the obvious, but managed to stop himself. In part, that was because he knew that it was just his fear for his daughter that was making him react like that, and in part, it was because he was already thinking. Valin was right: the kidnappers hadn’t come this way.

  Which way had they gone then? What did that leave? Sebastian looked down towards the waterways not far from the inn, where dull and colorful boats mingled together, crowded on the water in a floating tangle that seemed impossible to unpick. If the kidnappers had gone anywhere, it had to be there, didn’t it?

  “There,” Sebastian shouted to the others, starting off as fast as he could towards the closely packed boats below. He stumbled as he ran, but picked himself up and kept going, not daring to slow even for a moment while his daughter was still in danger.

  The boats were getting closer now, some so dilapidated that it appeared that they might barely float, others brightly painted and obviously cared for. The problem for Sebastian now wasn’t the lack of people, but that there were too many. Amid the traders and the bargemen, the travelers and the river pirates, how was he meant to make out one small child?

  Then he heard the sound of a baby’s cry, away to the right.

  Sebastian was already running when he heard it, dragging his sword from its sheathe even as he hurried in the direction his daughter’s cry had come from. He could see one of the brightly colored boats there now, hooded men and women aboard, not wearing the colors of any faction or house that Sebastian knew. One of a group by the docks was passing up a small bundle to one of the women there, and Sebastian knew instinctively that it was his daughter.

  “Stop!” he yelled, hurrying forward.

  Half a dozen men moved to block his way, armed with swords and knives. Sebastian didn’t hesitate, but plunged straight into the fight. He struck out at one of them, the sound of steel on steel coming as the man parried. Sebastian had to set aside a knife thrust in turn, then aimed a lateral slash at another of the men there. He swayed back, barely out of range of it.

  The others moved to try to surround him, but Edmore and Valin were there then, wading into the fight without hesitation. Edmore wasn’t as fast as some of the most dangerous warriors of Stonehome, but he still moved quickly enough to weave a web of steel with his blade. Valin, meanwhile struck out with the calculated violence of a soldier, protecting Sebastian’s side while Sebastian fought to get closer to the boat.

  “We need to get through!” he called out to the others. “It’s leaving.”

  One of the hooded men swung a blade at Sebastian in that moment, and he ducked, cutting back in a swipe across the man’s gut that brought him down screaming. Sebastian stood, aiming a barrage of strikes at another, but the man gave ground, and Sebastian had to step away to the side as a third man came at him.

  He could see Edmore struggling at close range with an opponent,
stabbing him, but Sebastian could see another of the hooded men coming up quickly.

  “Edmore, watch out!” he called.

  It was too late. The man Edmore was engaged with had enough strength remaining to hang onto him, giving the man coming at him enough time to stab the warrior in the back. Sebastian pushed his opponent clear long enough to cut the man down in turn, but it did nothing to help Edmore as the warrior fell.

  He and Valin stood back to back then, the two of them against the three remaining kidnappers. Worse, Sebastian could see the boat starting to pull away from the dock. He couldn’t stand there and wait while the men planned their attack.

  Instead, he charged at one of them, roaring a battle cry as he lifted his sword. He came almost into range, saw a flicker of something in the man’s eyes, and changed direction, turning in time to parry a blow from the one who came in behind him and cutting hard across the man’s throat.

  He spun back, sweeping his blade down in front of his body, and managing to catch a thrust from the man he’d charged towards. Sebastian cut across the man’s thighs, sending him screaming to the floor, then spun in time to see Valin stabbed by the last of them, his eyes turning glassy as death took him. Sebastian charged forward, all but hacking the hooded man’s head from his shoulders.

  He spun back towards the boat, running for it as it left, but it was already too far from shore to even hope to catch up to. Sebastian could only scream out his rage as he watched it floating away, the scream turning to tears of despair at the thought that he had lost his daughter.

  He turned back to the fallen attackers, returning to the one whose legs he’d cut from under him. The man stared up at him, features strange somehow, not quite real.

  “Who are you?” Sebastian demanded. “Where are you taking my daughter? Tell me!”

  “Or you’ll kill me?” the hooded man replied. He laughed. “If it’s my destiny to die, then I’ll die. We can’t avoid our destiny, and you can’t keep your daughter from hers!”

  “What do you mean?” Sebastian asked.