Lords Of The Dark Fall - Fabian

by C A Nicks

  Fabian was in the yard, standing in the shelter of the eaves where he couldn’t be seen from the road. Arms folded. Eyes distant. Brooding, if his implacable stance was anything to go by. A man whose focus had shifted from the cosy confines of the farm, to the distant horizon. Tig knew she couldn’t keep him safely tucked away for much longer.

  She gave him a tight smile as she crossed to the stable to saddle up Cafino. Fabian raised his hand in salute, his mouth set in a grim line. However much he professed his gratitude for all she’d done for him, the issue of the gun, her refusal to help him in his bid for power, lay between them like a tangible thing. He wanted to risk all. She wanted to live. They’d reached the point where the only middle ground was this stiff formality. This pretence that things would go on as they were and there would be no blood-bath. No regrets. No pain.

  Each day with Fabian was another thread woven into the complicated web that was fast becoming her life. If he didn’t leave soon, she would be far too entangled to ever forget him. She had only a small inkling that he felt the same. The way he watched her with his deep dark gaze, sometimes with lust, sometimes with concern told her the same dilemmas tore at him. But, wherever he’d come from, he seemed determined to return, one way or another. And willing to pay the required price.

  Tig urged Cafino into a gallop, always alert for other riders, the crossbow tucked under her arm. Winter’s bite was softening into the promise of spring, giving way to gentle breezes that lifted her spirits and helped blow away the cobwebs cluttering her mind.

  She gave the beast his head and lost herself in the exhilaration of the ride. Cafino responded with a burst of speed that made her feel guilty for ignoring him these past few weeks. By the time she clattered into Hal’s yard, she was breathless and laughing. Slightly hysterical. Sliding from the saddle, she embraced Sunas with enthusiasm and relegated thoughts of Fabian and her growing feelings for him, firmly to the back of her mind. She’d been too-long closeted in a confined space with a desirable man. Too focused on things over which she had little control. The moment she’d decided not to turn Fabian in for profit was the moment she’d conceded defeat and handed him back his destiny. Now, she could only watch and hope they both survived what was coming.

  “Goodness, Tig. What a welcome.” Sunas hugged her with genuine appreciation. Holding her at arm’s length, Sunas inspected her face. “Hal told me you’d hurt yourself. I would have come over, but this leg, I can hardly bend it.”

  “I tripped and fell. It was nothing, really.” Tig felt a momentary pang of guilt for neglecting the woman who’d been so good to her. “I came to see how you were and to impose for a few supplies if you can spare them.” Tig glanced around, not missing the new gate, the pure-bred horse leaning hopefully over the corral fence waiting for treats. Pure-breds, rather than hybrid mixes like Cafino, were the gifts of kings. Or war-lords. Sunas followed her gaze and quickly ushered her into the house.

  “We’re minding him for a friend. A trader who’s taking him to market. Sit down. I’ll make tea and we can catch up on the gossip.”

  “Thanks, I am rather thirsty after the ride.”

  Sunas returned her a tight smile, as if she realised they were having one of those trite conversations designed to avoid the obvious. “I can even offer you a choice. Dark-leaf or high plateau. Which would you prefer?”

  “Dark-leaf?” Tig stripped off her gloves and placed them carefully on the table. Worse than she’d realised. Those who could afford Dark-leaf were the kind of people with the influence to take what they wanted. Hal had risen higher than she’d imagined.

  “You got that from a friend, too? Sunas, I know about Warrington. I know Hal’s in there.”

  Sunas’s sigh was heartfelt enough to be sincere. She wouldn’t have mentioned the almost impossible to obtain, tea if she didn’t want to talk about it. Her eyes were alarmingly bright when she limped across the kitchen bearing the ornately-glazed jar holding the leaves.

  “Have you ever smelled anything so exquisite?” she said, offering the jar.

  “You already know I haven’t. Sunas, I don’t blame you and Hal for throwing in with the new warlord. We’ll all have to do it sooner or later. He told me the protection payment’s increasing. Any word on that?”

  “Hal and I don’t talk business. Don’t hate me for this, Tig. We’re just trying to survive, like everyone else. I’m sorry about Carson. I know you were fond of him.”

  “I was fond of what he represented. Security. He was the only reason I’ve been able to stay on at the farm and he was good to me in his way. Perhaps this is life telling me I ought to make the break and move into town.”

  “You’d need Warrington’s permission to do that.” Sunas tilted her head, eyeing her with enough scrutiny to make her squirm. “You’ve clung to that farm with your last fingernail. Even if Warrington would allow you to leave, why would you suddenly want to pack up and move?”

  “Perhaps because I’ve no fingernails left to hold on with? It’s too big for me to manage, anyway.”

  “You need a husband, Tig. I worry about you, all alone out there.”

  “Been there, done that. Come on, Sunas.” Tig slid the tea-jar across the table. “I came here for a gossip and to sweet-talk you out of some supplies. The dogs ate the last of the potatoes and a wolf ran off with my goat-leg. Do you have any mutton going begging? I’m planning a new series of story-plates and will be able to pay you back.”

  Tig paused for breath, hoping the request for some decent meat had managed to sound casual rather than desperate. A man the size of Fabian couldn’t survive on the meagre rations she allowed herself. Especially one planning to take over the world.

  He’d certainly need his strength for that.

  “Mutton? Anyone would think you were feeding an army.” Sunas raised an eyebrow but took the hint and turned to busy herself with the tea. As the pungent aroma filled the kitchen, Tig’s thoughts strayed to Fabian and what he might be doing in her absence.

  Probably taking the house apart in his efforts to find the rifle. The warrior-king was replacing the wounded exile with alarming speed. He’d want it as a symbol of power and defiance if nothing else.

  “You know Warrington will probably marry you off, regardless of what you want? You’ve some good grazing land, which he won’t want to see lie idle.” Sunas set out a plate bearing slices of fruit-laden cake. Poured out two mugs of tea and handed one over.

  Tig took a moment to sniff the heady brew. Made right, Dark-leaf could induce a bit of a high and she could do with a free joy-ride right now. “He can try. If it comes to that, I’ll just give him the farm without protest.”

  The sadness in Sunas’s eyes returned. “Don’t know if I should be telling you this, but Warrington has plans and I’ve a horrible feeling you’ll be a part of them.”

  Tig helped herself to a slice of cake, unable to stop the quickening of her heart. “Not the old breeding farm idea again? I thought the population was on the rise?”

  “Not according to Hal. Warrington wants more marriages, and more children. There aren’t enough kids reaching maturity, apparently.”

  “Breeding farms are barbaric. Remember what a genetic disaster that experiment was?”

  “He’s talking about marriage, doing it the traditional way. Even Hal’s doing his bit. Told me he’s looking to replace Alie. Have some kids before he’s too old.” This time the tears did spill. “I think he means to set me aside now he can afford some newer, younger wives. With this leg I’m virtually useless. Where will I go, Tig? What will I do if he does?”

  Tig put down her mug, appalled at the bleakness in her friend’s expression. “Why would he do that? You’ve been a good and loyal wife to him, Sunas. He owes you now that you’re—“

  “Old, fat and crippled? I embarrass him. That’s the bottom line. And it’s fairly obvious I’ll never give him children. He’s about to trade me in, Tig. I know it. Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.” Tig inh
aled the steam from the tea, wishing the effects would kick in before the conversation turned to exactly who Hal was lining up as his new wife. If she’d ever even remotely considered the possibility of saying yes to him, she knew now that it would never be an option. Enduring Hal’s creepy sexual tendencies paled into insignificance compared to the hurt she’d cause her old friend.

  “Ask away. I’m always here for a friend, you know that.”

  “I know. Can I come over for a few days? I’ll bring food and some juicy gossip and we’ll have a male-free time. Couple of days where we can put the world to rights, eat and sleep without worrying about the mess all this macho posturing is making of our country. What do you say?”

  Tig took a gulp of her tea, nearly choking in her effort to swallow. What could she say? Sorry, I’m already busy with said macho male who wants me to help him organise a blood-bath? What possible excuse could she give?

  “I’d love to. But, I’m really busy right now. Got myself way behind with the pottery and need to catch up. Couple of weeks’ time, maybe?”

  It hurt to have to turn her down. To see the expression of hope turn to one of disappointment. Sunas had been a great comfort in the horrible aftermath of the massacre that had taken her family and Tig owed her big-time.

  Sunas didn’t even bother to try to hide the hurt. “Couple of weeks’ time it is, then. Hal’s due back soon. If you meet him on the road, don’t tell him I asked.”

  “Of course I won’t.” Tig drank down the remainder of her tea. It wasn’t Dark-leaf after all, just some poor substitute that was having no effect whatsoever on either of them judging by their glum expressions. “Time to go,” she said rising from her chair. “I’m really sorry about the visit. We’ll do it, soon, okay? Are we still good for the loan of supplies?”

  “Wait up, I’ll fetch you down a haunch of mutton. Don’t let Hal drive you away, Tig. We haven’t even begun to talk.”

  “He’s not, really.” She stooped to hug her friend. “Forget about the mutton. I’m just being greedy. A small sack of potatoes will do me fine. After all, it is only me I’m feeding.”

  Sunas hauled herself to her feet. “Come on, they’re in the store out back. I know Hal creeps you out a bit and I don’t blame you for feeling that way. If we go now, he won’t even know you’ve been here.”

  “You’re a good friend, Sunas. I’ll pray for you.”

  “You’ve bought into this one true god thing, then?”

  Tig gave a dry laugh. Peeling back her sleeve she revealed the mark of the fishes.

  “When the war bands agree on the same one true god, I’ll get it made permanent. For now, I’m more than happy to worship whichever god is flavour of the month.”

  Sunas gave a nod of understanding, her expression turning pensive. “You’re not old enough to remember what it was like before the wars. This land was a paradise. The city of Tunaka one of the most beautiful places on the planet, all fountains and marble squares where people would sit and chat over their coffee of a morning. And they’ve ruined it all.”

  “I’ve seen pictures.” Tig chose the smallest sack of potatoes, not wishing to call attention to the extra mouth she was feeding. “Guess I was born twenty years too late.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” Hal’s deep masculine tones cut in smoothly.

  Dammit, Hal! Neither of them had heard the wagon, which meant he’d parked it deliberately at a distance in order to surprise them. Must have seen Cafino tethered in the corral when he did his sweep of the property. Tig’s cheeks heated beneath his gaze. Sunas hadn’t missed the frank appraisal, the smile that hinted that she and Hal shared something his wife had no knowledge of.

  With dismay she saw the flash of realisation on Sunas’s face. The stiffening of the spine. Before she could say anything, her friend had turned and walked away.

  Hal smiled broadly. “You’ve come to give me my answer?”

  “We said one month, Hal.” Tig pushed past him. “I came over to see Sunas, and to borrow some food. One month. I’ll give you my answer then.”

  He caught her arm, swinging her back round to face him. Scattering a few precious potatoes from the sack. “I might not be able to wait. I’m in a position to take another wife, now. You’d be stupid to refuse. And to tease me like this.”

  She sucked in a careful, calming breath, hoping he wouldn’t see the panic. The old Hal had been mostly bluster, easy to placate with a few physical favours. Now she saw a man who had the means to back up his threats. No longer asking, he was telling her how it would be.

  “Hal.” She lowered her voice in case Sunas was listening behind the door. “I’m thinking about it, seriously I am. But how will Sunas take it?”

  “She’ll deal with it. Tig, I know you’re worried about how she’ll respond, but don’t be. She knows the score. She put up with Alie, and she’ll put up with you.”

  “She’s my friend. Thinks you’re about to put her aside in favour of a younger woman.”

  “She’s too good a cook for that.” Pulling her closer, his large hand circled her breast, squeezing lightly. “How about something on account, as it were? In return for those potatoes – I know you can’t afford to pay for them.”

  He was right about that. Something hardened inside of her. Wasn’t she the queen of compromise? Scruples were for those who could afford to eat.

  “You make me burn, Tig. A small token, and then go home and make the sensible decision. You shouldn’t be wandering around dressed in your brother’s old cast-offs. Riding that joke of a beast. I can give you things. Help you build your business. Stop Warrington marrying you off to someone else. You were mentioned, Tig. By name.”

  He’d unfastened two of her shirt buttons. Slipped the hand inside to cover bare flesh. At least this would distract his thoughts. Stop him from picking up on anything Fabian-related. She was no wilting flower to suffer the vapours over a quick grope. She even favoured him with a breathy moan, to which he responded by pushing himself against her thigh.

  “You like that, don’t you?”

  “You know I do.”

  He held her at arm’s length, then, eyes locked onto hers. “That, or you’re a very good liar. Something’s wrong, Tig. I felt it the other day and I feel it now.”

  Shoving him off, she stepped away. “Of course something’s off. Carson’s dead. Business is terrible. You tell me Warrington is taking an interest in me. I just need some space, Hal. You’ll get your answer. I promise.”

  “Warrington will give you to me. If you keep on refusing me, he’ll throw you to one of his lieutenants and then I won’t be able to protect you.”

  He made no further attempts to touch her. While he watched her re-button her shirt with shaking hands, she filled her mind with nonsense rhymes, reciting them over and over with no idea whether she was only increasing his suspicion.

  “I’ll be over in a week,” he said as a parting shot. “Don’t disappoint me.”

  Making her way back to the corral, she resisted the urge to break into a run. What she couldn’t do was stop her thoughts returning to Fabian or to notice Sunas standing in the open doorway of the farmhouse, watching her mount up. When she raised her hand to wave goodbye, Sunas simply turned to disappear into the house, closing the door behind her.

  * * * *

  He missed his true-brother Marcellus with his dry wit and his ability to charm the very birds from the trees. Fabian smiled at the memory of Marcellus hacking his way through a tribe of Drega, while at the same time regaling his fellow warriors with some bawdy tale of his bedroom exploits of the night before.

  He missed his presence, but he did not worry about him. Like him, wherever Marcellus landed he would pick himself up, adapt and rise again. And he would never stop trying to find a way home.

  Scanning the horizon for signs of Tig’s return, Fabian wondered at this new feeling. Her absence was an almost tangible thing, gnawing at his guts and mind in equal measure. It had started the moment she’d ridden away a
nd he suspected, would not stop until her slight figure, atop that strange beast of hers clattered into the yard and he could see for himself she returned safe and unharmed.

  How had she survived this long, virtually unprotected save for the fragile peace of mind bought by her hard-earned tribute money? Carson may have let her keep the farm, but that, he suspected, was about to change. What warlord would allow the desert to reclaim such a fertile oasis? Who, in their right mind, would leave fields untilled, pastures un-grazed? When he looked with his former eyes, Fabian saw only an asset to be stripped and used to buy favour. A place to supply food to his army. A woman to be given to one of his generals, or used for a single, debauched night of entertainment by his troops.

  His former self would have done no less. Now he stood, a knife in one hand, a stick whittled almost to nothing in the other, an uncomfortable prickle of anxiety tightening his chest because she said she would be back well before sundown, and although the shadow of the barn had lengthened to cover the yard, there was still no sign of her.

  And then suddenly, she was there and the feeling vanished in an instant to be replaced first by a surprising anger at the worry she’d caused him and then by a relief that made him want to drag her from the beast and hold her and never let her go.

  Catching Cafino’s bridle, he gentled the beast while she dismounted. Apart from a small sack, the panniers were disappointingly devoid of foodstuffs.

  “Didn’t go very well,” she said following his gaze. “Couldn’t justify taking more than I’d normally eat. And then Hal turned up. Would you take the potatoes to the barn? I need to go wash.”

  “You are to stay away from that man.” He pulled the sack from the panniers and turned to find Tig already half-way to the bath house. She would walk her own path, as she always did. Cling to her destiny until the inevitable day she lost control.

  A day that would come all too soon. This was not a world where women would ever hold sway. It was a world of men with all their posturing and confrontation and need to prove themselves better than the next.