by Morgan Henry
He entered the tunnel. “Come on,” he ordered the remaining man, Yers.
They had two torches with them, barely enough to light the way, but they went on as fast as they could. The tunnel itself curved but there were no branches off it to confuse them further. Turok commented that it had been built so recently, there hadn’t been time to add confusing elements. Merrin hoped that no one had added any kerfios-laced traps either.
It seemed like they trotted through the blackness of the tunnel forever. Merrin knew it wasn’t so, but he also knew that every moment Bruson had Aenid was torture for her.
Finally he could see grayness ahead of him instead of complete blackness. They had to be approaching the end of the tunnel. He slowed their group down. Here was the perfect place for a trap or ambush. They would come out of the tunnel into the sunlight and be blind for a few seconds.
He had them put the torches out and draw their weapons. They crept to the opening slowly, waiting for something to spring out of the light ahead.
The tunnel emerged into a crevice in the rock. They were in a steep-sided, narrow valley on what seemed like a goat-trail. The wind whipped around them, blowing their surcoats around their legs violently.
The trail led down into the valley as well as up the side of the mountain. “Which way?” he shouted at Turok.
Merrin looked back at the rock crevice. If he didn’t know the entrance to the tunnel was there, he certainly wouldn’t have found it. He hoped that he could find it again on their way back. With Aenid.
* * * *
Aenid regained consciousness and immediately wished she hadn’t. She was upside down and constantly bumped and jostled. She felt nauseated but at the same time there didn’t seem to be anything left inside her to come up. Her throat burned as if she had vomited for days.
She moaned and tried to steady herself, realizing that her hands were bound and she was slung over someone’s shoulder. They were walking and she was swaying against them. She struggled more and received a curt order to be still.
It would serve them right if she vomited down their back, Aenid thought. But she didn’t want to vomit anymore. It would be too painful. She struggled again and this time was dumped on the ground.
“If you can squirm, you can walk,” the man carrying her said. She looked up to see the man who had carried her was Hador, and Bruson was right behind him.
“You’re probably right,” agreed Bruson. “Get up and walk, Aenid. We’ve got a long journey and we won’t be carrying you the entire way.”
Hador yanked her to her feet and shoved her ahead of him. She started to walk slowly. Now that she wasn’t upside down and the world wasn’t swaying jerkily, she didn’t feel so nauseated and could manage to move.
Aenid hadn’t said a word to her captors. It wouldn’t do her any good. Bruson was going to do what he was going to do. She assumed he was heading for Torquin and, unless she could get away, she would spend the rest of her days a collared slave.
She was not going to allow that to happen. She had escaped once, though it was with assistance, and she would find a way to escape again. Surely there was something she could do. She took stock of their surroundings. They were heading along a tiny path down into a valley. The path was steep and cut into the side of the mountain. On her right was a rock wall and on her left was not quite a sheer cliff, but close to it. At the other end of the valley there appeared to be a pass between the mountains. She assumed on the other side was Torquin.
Six men held her captive. She was walking in the middle of the group. Hador, Bruson, and four others she didn’t know but recognized from the storeroom were all heavily armed and had packs on their backs. She wasn’t wearing a pack and her knife had been taken. Her cloak was gone and she had the hated collar around her neck.
This was not a promising situation. Aenid decided she needed information if she were to try to formulate a plan.
“So how many people know about your escape route, coward?” she flung at Bruson.
“Shut up or I’ll gag you,” came the reply, with a jolt of pain from the collar as well.
Aenid staggered. Her hands were still bound so she wouldn’t have been able to catch herself easily. The man behind her grabbed her gown and prevented her from falling face first onto the path, but roughly shoved her onward when she hesitated.
Aenid was stumped. She was having trouble coming up with a plan to get away as they wound down the path to the valley.
* * * *
“Up,” shouted Turok at Merrin.
“Are you sure?” came the reply.
“Trust me.”
Merrin had little choice. He headed up the trail and out of the valley. They were trying to move fast, but picking their way along the tiny path wasn’t easy. The wind wasn’t helping matters. It seemed to be trying to pull them off the rocks to smash their bodies on the jagged boulders below.
They crested the mountain and headed over the tiny pass at the top. They picked up speed here as it leveled out and the footing became less treacherous. The wind was still wailing at them, but at least if they fell now, it wasn’t far to the ground.
They turned to head down into another valley. This path was treacherous as well, with a rather steep drop on Merrin’s left.
“Look!” said Robal, his sharp eyes spying movement below.
Merrin squinted trying to get a good look. Down below, nearing the valley floor, he could see a small group of people. He desperately wanted it to be Bruson and Aenid. He wanted to know they were on the right path.
“It has to be them, no one lives in this valley,” pointed out Turok. “Through that pass is Torquin. Bruson always intended for this to be his escape route. He might be able to find one of the nomadic tribes that live at the base of the mountains to help him get to Emperor Versad.”
“Come on,” Merrin said grimly, trying to pick up their pace even more. It was getting late and the light was starting to fade.
Chapter 19
The sun was setting behind the mountains when Bruson finally called a halt to their travels. They were down in the valley now and on more level ground, though it was still rocky.
They camped by a spring so there was plenty of water to drink, but there was little firewood. Now that the sun was going down it was getting cooler and Aenid wished for a fire. Bruson did apparently as well, for he ordered his men to build one.
Hador protested. “If there is anyone following, a fire will guide them right to us.”
“There damn well better not be anyone following us. Everyone who knew about that tunnel should be dead,” Bruson responded.
“You never know,” muttered Hador.
“Just build us a cursed fire. It’s cold and we could use something hot.” Bruson sounded as weary as the rest of them.
Aenid was sitting on the ground with her back against a rock. She was exhausted from the journey, from healing Merrin earlier and from the effects of the collar. Cold and weariness were a bad combination. She was half-asleep already.
She watched as Hador attempted to light the fire. There was only a little wood and it didn’t seem to want to catch. Finally it lit and gave off a little light, and less warmth. Hador filled a pot with water from the stream and set about boiling it. He served Bruson and himself coffee laced with brandy. The rest of them got coffee without the extra.
Hador provided her with a hard biscuit and some dried meat for a meal. Not appetizing, but Aenid knew she needed to eat if she were going to carry on and find a way out of this mess.
Bruson knelt beside her and tied her feet together as well as her hands. He threw a blanket over her. “I’m giving you an order. You’re to stay there until morning, or you’ll feel the bite of the collar. Understand?” He waited until she nodded, then went and sat closer to the fire again. They were close enough to catch her if she moved.
Aenid wouldn’t allow herself to cry. She was tired, cold, and collared, but she told herself she would find a way out. She would survive and not giv
e up yet. She knew Merrin and her King would look for her. Perhaps they would be able to trade Amard for her. She wasn’t sure if Emperor Versad would let kerfios wielders go once he had collared them, though.
She knew she had put herself at risk, going into the battle, and she had paid dearly for it. But she couldn’t make herself regret saving Merrin’s life. Even if she never saw him again, she would at least know that he lived. It was a small comfort for her. Was that true love? Caring enough for another person that she refused to regret the high price of saving him?
It was fully dark now. The only light was from the small fire in the middle of the camp. Aenid could hear the gurgle of the stream and the snap of the fire. Bruson and his men were talking softly. Aenid felt so alone.
She heard crunching noises nearby. The men at the fire didn’t seem to hear them. She was sure someone was approaching the camp. Her heart leapt a little. Could it be Merrin?
Turok strode into the camp and Aenid was both disappointed and a bit hopeful. She was fairly certain that Turok wasn’t completely under Bruson’s thumb anymore. There was a part of her that doubted though. Why would he be here if he wasn’t going with Bruson to Torquin?
The men leapt to their feet as he arrived, pulling out their weapons. Turok was armed but didn’t seem prepared to fight.
“Are you planning on gutting me?” he asked, seemingly amused.
Bruson snorted. “I thought you were dead. Didn’t I see you fall during the fighting in the courtyard?” he asked a little suspiciously.
“It must not have been as bad as it appeared.” He shrugged. “I had to hide for a bit until I could get to the storeroom and get out, though. Merrin’s combing the keep looking for you and his ladylove. I had to keep dodging him and his men.”
Turok went closer to the fire and shouldered his way in between one of the men and Bruson. He grabbed a mug and filled it with what little coffee was left and took a drink.
“Are you sure no one followed you?” asked Hador.
“How the hell could they find that tunnel unless they knew exactly what they were looking for?” responded Turok. “I sure as hell haven’t discussed it with anyone, have you?”
This time it was Hador that snorted.
“Do you have the collar back on the baroness?” Turok asked Bruson. “Did she tell you how she got out of it last time?”
“I haven’t had the time to question her thoroughly, but she’ll answer to me sooner or later. And yes, she’s collared again. Why do you think she’s so subdued?” He gave a bark of laughter.
“Well that’s unfortunate,” Turok said cryptically.
Bruson frowned at him. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I might have let you live if you hadn’t slapped the collar back on her.” At Bruson’s surprised look, Turok pulled his long and wickedly sharp knife from his boot and plunged it into Bruson’s neck. The blade severed his left carotid artery, left jugular vein, and tore through his trachea. The duke gurgled as he hit the ground, scrabbling in the dirt as he bled out.
Hador gave a roar and pulled his sword. He plunged it into Turok’s belly as Turok attempted to drive the knife into Hador’s side. They fell to the ground as the other men around the fire leapt to their feet. Merrin and his men appeared out of the darkness to swiftly fall on the remaining few of Bruson’s men.
Bruson fell in front of Aenid and she watched him die. Turok’s knife had done severe damage, enough that only a skilled healer could save Bruson. The irony was that he had fallen just out of Aenid’s reach. She couldn’t move or use her power because the collar would cause her agonizing pain to the point where she would pass out. She couldn’t save him. Bruson had ensured his own death by his use of the collar.
In truth, Aenid couldn’t bring herself to regret his death. When Aenid saw the light fade from his eyes, she looked around at the rest of the camp.
Turok was down and Hador on top of him. Hador’s sword was in Turok’s belly and Turok was trying to thrust his knife into Hador’s side, but was too weak. Hador stood, only a shallow wound in his side, and drove his sword into Turok’s heart. Hador then turned and lunged for Merrin.
“Merrin! Behind you!” screamed Aenid as Hador leapt toward him.
Merrin managed to dispatch the guard he was battling and turn just in time to deflect Hador’s sword. They began to fight in earnest, swords clanging as each tried to slay the other.
On the other side of the fire, Robal and another man battled the three remaining guards of Bruson’s. Robal was an expert swordsman and would normally be more than a match for Bruson’s guards. But the guards had rested from their trek over the mountains and Robal had not.
Aenid could scarcely watch the fighting and yet could not look away. She couldn’t bear for Merrin, or indeed any of the king’s men, to be hurt again on her behalf.
She suddenly realized that her insistence on being near the battle didn’t just put her own life in danger. Because she was unable to defend herself, her presence forced others to risk their lives to defend her. And in defending her, their attention was divided between the battle itself and her safety. She was suddenly ashamed of her own shortsightedness.
Between the two of them, Robal and the other soldier managed to kill the last of Bruson’s guards. Panting, they started toward Hador and Merrin, only to witness Hador slip on the uneven ground near the stream. Merrin used the opportunity to slice into Hador’s sword arm, rendering him defenseless, his weapon dropping to the stone.
The two men looked at each other for a moment, silently. Then Merrin nodded and, two hands on his blade, cleaved Hador’s head from his body.
Chapter 20
In the dim light of the fire, Merrin looked around to find Aenid. He knew she had been huddled against a large rock a little ways from the fire. She was still there, Bruson dead on the ground in front of her.
Ascertaining that the rest of Bruson’s men were lifeless, he rushed over to her.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, kneeling in front of her and cutting the bonds that were around her hands and feet.
She shook her head. “Please,” she said hoarsely, “get it off.”
“I’ll try, my love.” Merrin felt around the snug collar. He couldn’t find a clasp. It seemed completely fused together. He tried to pull her closer to the fire, but she collapsed screaming and dragged herself back to the rock.
“Goddess, Aenid! What did I do?” Merrin was horrified by her reaction.
“The ring,” she gasped. “Get the ring.”
The collar’s ring! Merrin had forgotten about it in his eagerness to remove the collar. He went over to Bruson and pulled the small silver band off his finger and brought it over to Aenid. He dropped it into her hand. “Does this make it better?”
Aenid closed her hand around it and tried to get up. She quickly sat back down, shaking. “No,” she croaked, and Merrin heard the tears in her voice.
Robal came over and knelt beside them. “What’s wrong?”
Merrin thought aloud, directing his words to Aenid. “Bruson must have ordered you to stay where you are or the collar punishes you, yes?” At Aenid’s nod, he continued. “You having control over the ring doesn’t negate his orders, so what will? Perhaps the ring needs to be worn by another to countermand him?”
Merrin saw the tears in Aenid’s eyes as she slowly handed him the ring. He could only imagine the kind of trust she would have to have in him to place that silver band in his hand. He slipped it on his finger and immediately felt the presence of the enchantment and was completely aware of the collar’s power.
It was strange, this sensation of absolute control over another. Not like the command of a lord over his soldiers, but very, very different. He knew that if he gave her an order and she tried to disobey, the collar would punish her on its own. He also knew that with a thought he could make her get up, move to where he desired, and use her power. He could feel her ability to use kerfios as if it were his own and that he could tap into that ability an
d direct it where he desired. He wondered if Bruson had known about these other aspects of the collar, or if he just wanted to use the pain.
“Aenid,” he said softly. “I need you to move closer to the fire so I can see the collar. Maybe then I can remove it.” He directed the ring to ensure that Aenid felt nothing from the collar at all as she stood cautiously.
He held his breath as she moved toward the fire and knelt beside it. She didn’t seem to be in pain, but then she was doing as he asked. He walked over and knelt behind her, looking closely at the collar. He again ran his fingers over the metal, trying to sense a clasp. There was nothing.
“I’m so sorry, my love. I don’t know how to remove it. I can’t find a clasp.” Merrin had never felt so helpless.
Aenid gave a choking sob. “I don’t know how Turok did it, and now he’s dead. I can’t wear this forever.” The tears began to flow from her eyes.
Merrin stepped in front of her. He gripped her shoulders and forced her to meet his gaze. “I know, and you won’t. I swear. Tomorrow we’ll head back to the king and find someone who knows how to remove them. I know His Majesty has had collars taken off refugees before. There is someone in Kerban with the knowledge, Aenid. Trust me.”
“I do,” she choked out.
Merrin pulled her into his arms as he turned his attention to the camp. Robal and Yers had pulled the bodies away from the camp and were raiding the packs for food and blankets. Now that Merrin was no longer fighting, he could feel the biting cold of the mountains. Aenid was probably freezing.
Yers brought over some blankets and Merrin wrapped Aenid snugly. “Did they feed you?” he asked. At her nod, he continued. “Do you need more? How about something to drink?” She shook her head, and Merrin left her seated by the fire.
He assisted the other two in rooting through the packs. Robal handed him some jerky and biscuits. They were nothing special, but the three men were hungry after running around the mountains and he devoured the meager meal. Yers had made hot coffee as well, and he gratefully accepted a cup.
