The Guardian

by Angus Wells

  Eryk laughed, and looked to Rytha. “What say you, wife?”

  “That you’ve your brother, as you’ve dreamed,” Rytha said. “And we’ve a pawn in this child.”

  “How so?” Eryk frowned. “My brother, yes; I understand. But her?”

  Rytha sighed. “Why do you think he’s here? He runs from Talan of Danant like the coward he is, and brings us Chaldor’s heir in tow. What price shall Talan set on her? Or Mattich—he’d likely pay well for his daughter’s child. Either way, we’ve a powerful pawn.”

  Eryk smiled, nodding. Rytha prompted him further. “Think on it. We’ve already the Devyn and the Agador by marriage-bond. Do we hold Mattich’s granddaughter, then we can force the Dur to fealty. And surely Talan must reward us greatly, do we give him Andur’s daughter.”

  I said, “You bitch!” and she kicked me low in the belly. For so fat a woman she was quick and strong, and I found myself curled upon the ground, fighting the desire to vomit.

  From that undignified position I heard them talking.

  Eryk said, “We might upset the clans. The gods know, but some still favor Chaldor.”

  “And when Talan seizes Chorym, and Danant owns all Chaldor?”

  “There’s that, yes. But what if he does not?”

  “He’s a Vachyn sorcerer, no? How can he lose? Ryadne shall soon be dead, or forced into marriage with him. What price then on her daughter?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “The highest! Talan will pay well for her; and Mattich will likely swear allegiance to save her life. How can we lose?”

  I began, almost, to pity my brother—married to this monster.

  “Listen, send messengers now to both Mattich and Talan. Tell them we’ve Ellyn in our charge—for sale to the highest bidder.”

  Eryk chuckled. “I did well to marry you.”

  “Yes. Now do as I say.”

  “And them?”

  “Put them in a guarded tent.” She bent toward me and I saw chins wobbling. “Shall you enjoy her company, Gailard? Shall you enjoy it better than mine? Do you like them young, eh?”

  I opened my mouth to answer, but she kicked me again and took my breath away, so that I could only curl against the pain and feel myself hauled off like some butchered carcass even as I heard Ellyn screaming.

  At least we were not bound. There was no need, for we were placed in a tent ringed by armed men. It had some furs on the floor and an empty fire pit at the center. I doubted the fire should be lit and wondered why Eryk did not kill me on the spot. I supposed he planned some longer vengeance.

  “Are you all right?”

  I found my head was cradled in Ellyn’s lap and that her hands wandered nervously over my hair. I said, “I’ll recover.”

  “She kicked you hard.”

  I grunted and forced myself to sit up. My belly protested, but Ellyn’s arm supported me, and I was surprised by her concern. “I’ve taken worse,” I said.

  “You must have disappointed her greatly, that she hates you so. Did she love you very much?”

  “I think she loved the notion of marriage to the Devyn’s headman better—the idea that she rule two clans.” I chuckled sourly. “Now she’s her wish, eh?”

  “Was she always so fat?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “She was slender. As I told you, she was pretty.”

  “But you still refused to marry her.”

  I nodded, wondering why Ellyn seemed so pleased with that rejection.

  “So what shall we do now?”

  I shrugged. “Nothing. There’s nothing we can do.”

  “There must be something,” Ellyn removed her arm and shifted a little way away across the furs, as if embarrassed by those moments of intimacy. “We can wait until nightfall and escape. Take back our horses and run …”

  “We’re too well guarded,” I said. “And they’d hunt us down.”

  “We might reach my grandfather. We’re close to his territory, no?”

  I nodded, my initial curiosity at the location of this camp reignited. The Devyn had never come so close to the Dur lands in my time, but even so I could not believe we had any chance of reaching Mattich. I said, “How close we are is of no account when so many men surround us.” I snorted bitter laughter. “Ryadne said you own the magical talent—shall you use that to free us?”

  Ellyn pouted. “Perhaps I shall,” she answered indignantly.

  At dusk we were taken from our tent and brought to Eryk and Rytha. They sat on fur-swathed chairs before the fire. Rurrid and Athol sat in honor beside, and Ellyn and I were pushed unceremoniously to the ground. Eryk gnawed on a steak of venison, tossing the remnant to me as if I were a cringing dog. I spat on it.

  Rytha laughed. “Husband, husband, not so unkind, eh? Would you not have him strong for what he must face? Better feed him well, that he last the longer. And the princess, that she not lose her worth to us.”

  I felt a sourness in my belly at that, but still I took the plate that was brought me and ate. I was even given a mug of ale.

  “What do you plan?” I asked.

  Eryk looked to Rytha as if he required her permission to speak. Then: “Why, brother, it is our decree that you shall be stripped naked and dragged through all our camp; then you shall be flogged, and when your bones are bared you shall be hung on a tree to await the crows.”

  I set my plate down and rose. Men drew blades around me. I said, “I claim right of combat!”

  “You?” Eryk laughed. “A clansman might claim right of combat, but you are not a clansman. Our father stripped you of that when he banished you. You are nothing, brother, save some wandering hire-sword who has no rights save to die in pain.” His belly wobbled as he chuckled. “Oh, I shall enjoy that—watching the crows and the ravens come down to eat your eyes, strip the bloody flesh from off your bones.”

  “You are a coward,” I cried, “afraid to face me in honest combat.”

  “I am chieftain of the Devyn and the Agador,” he replied, “and I need not soil my blade with such filth as you.”

  “You are afraid of me,” I said, louder. “I name you coward.”

  That was such insult as would have prompted any Highlander to draw his blade and accept—save my brother. I saw some heads nod agreement, but none spoke up on my behalf. I wondered what malaise possessed the Devyn that none came to my defense. Yes, I was banished on pain of death, but that death should be swift, not flogging and the tree—and even a banished exile had the right to combat. It was as if Eryk and Rytha held the clan in horrid thrall. I stared at my brother, hating him.

  But it was Rytha who spoke. “It shall be a slow death, Gailard. The lash shall hurt, but the birds will be worse. And as they pluck away your flesh, you will know that your little friend aids our purpose.”

  I glanced sidelong at Ellyn. She sat pale-faced and—for once—silent. “Don’t harm her,” I asked.

  “Oh, we’ll not harm her,” Rytha mocked, “at least, not too much, for she’s too valuable. The gods know, Talan will surely pay well for her; but before him, Mattich.” I had forgotten how strident her laugh could be. “Do you not understand? We go to war, Gailard. We ride against the Dur, and even though we’d doubtless conquer them, now we likely shall not need to fight—we’ll offer them a trade instead. Ellyn’s life for oaths of fealty, eh? And does Mattich doubt us, we shall send him pieces of his daughter’s child until some finger, or some toe—perhaps an ear—persuades him.”

  I choked on bile as I heard Ellyn gasp. “And what of Talan, then?” I demanded. “Shall he accept a butchered bride?”

  “Do you think he’ll care?” Rytha gave me back. “He wants legitimate claim to Chaldor’s throne, and can he not have Ryadne, then he’ll take Ellyn—in whatever form. Better a handless wife than no throne.”

  In that moment it crossed my mind that I might close the distance between us and kill her with my hands. Perhaps even slay Eryk, too. But then Ellyn would be alone, and if one of them lived, she would surely su
ffer. Besides, men stood with spears and swords, and some with bows that they nocked and pointed at me as they guessed what passed through my mind. I chose to live and cling to such hope as I could not truly believe in. I settled and cursed them. “The gods damn you both, and all who follow you.”

  “Many shall,” Eryk said, “for we’ll command the Dur soon, and then all three clans will ride against the Quan and the Arran, and we shall own all the Highlands. And we shall cede treaties with Talan and rule here, and our kingdom shall be greater than Chaldor ever was, and folk shall sing the praises of King Eryk and Queen Rytha.”

  He clambered from his padded chair and raised his arms, and the guard that ringed us lifted up their spears and swords and beat their shields in accolade, and I felt all hope die. I thought that I had failed Andur, failed Ryadne, delivered Ellyn to mutilation and—perhaps worst of all—to Talan. I had betrayed my king, his queen, and my charge as guardian. I was close to weeping then, filled with chagrin and hatred.

  Then I heard Ellyn ask, “When shall this foul execution take place?”

  “Tomorrow,” Eryk said, “at dawn, when the crows are hungry.”

  We were taken back to our tent and flung inside. As the flaps closed I saw a ring of steel placed around the lodge. A dozen men at least, and far more beyond, ready to halt us and slay us. And dogs to baric, and we without weapons or horses. I could see no hope at all.

  “What shall we do?” Ellyn asked me.

  I could not help laughing as I answered, “Die. Me, at least. And you be traded like some Serian whore.”

  “I’m no whore,” she whispered.

  I crossed the tent to crouch beside her. Her face was very pale and she chewed on a thumb. I placed a hand upon her shoulder and felt her body trembling beneath my touch. I thought that she would pull away and vent her anger on me, but she did not; instead, she curled against me, as if I might still protect her. I felt a terrible guilt that I had brought her to this. “Listen,” I said, “do as they ask. Go willing and avoid their wrath.”

  “Would they really do that? Would they butcher me?”

  “I think they might, but also that they’d sooner not. I think that such savagery would offend too many. Why do you not write Mattich a letter—I think they’d allow you that. At least, play their game and, as best you can, keep in their good graces.”

  “So they can sell me to Talan?”

  “That’s surely better than …” I shrugged.

  “And you?” She turned eyes that I now saw were filled with tears toward my face. “What of you?”

  “What they promised.”

  “No!” She flung her arms around me, holding close against me. “I could not bear that.”

  “I thought,” I said, “that you did not care so much for me.”

  She buried her face in my chest. “You’re my guardian, Gailard. What shall I do if they slay you?”

  “Live on,” I said, confused by this sudden display of emotion. “Does it come to it, marry Talan.”

  “No! Never!”

  “And some night, put a knife in his heart.”

  “I could do that. But …” She looked up at me all tearful. “There must be some other way.”

  “What?” I asked. I felt resigned to my fate, and wanted only to give her comfort, but could not think of how, or what more I could say. “Only do as I ask, eh?”

  Ellyn shook her head and curled on the furs.

  I curled apart from her and contemplated my impending death.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Their negotiations completed, Kerid rose from Mother Hel’s bed and splashed cold water on his face and chest. He felt weary, and pleased with himself, and turned to smile at the woman lounging carelessly against the crumpled pillows. Sunlight from the high windows lit her blond hair and her answering smile was the beam of a satiated cat. She beckoned him and he went to her, settling beside her on the bed.

  “So, we are agreed?”

  Long nails traced a path down his chest, and Kerid nodded. “The Danant boat I captured in exchange for one fully stocked warboat. Those three Chaldor craft in harbor for two more. You drive a hard bargain, Mother.”

  Mother Hel laughed. “And others, remember, do you return my tithe. It seems fair to me. After all, I risk Danant’s wrath for this.”

  “Talan would not dare attack you.” Kerid shifted as her hand scratched lower. “Save he first conquer Chaldor, and have I those warboats …”

  “You’ll become a great river pirate and defeat him.”

  Kerid wondered if she mocked him. It was hard to tell, and hard to concentrate as her hand continued its investigation. He nodded again, and said, “I’ll pay your tithe and trade you every ship I take that does not sink, and soon I’ll have a navy that shall defeat Talan on the river.”

  “And does Chorym fall? Does Talan claim the throne?”

  “Then still I shall fight him.”

  “You’re brave.”

  Kerid shrugged modestly. “I do only my duty, Mother.”

  “And well.” She drew him closer. “Now shall we seal our bargain?”

  Kerid sighed, torn between the desire to inspect the warboats and what he felt for this demanding woman. Best please her, he thought for she rules Hel’s Town, and without her agreement I can achieve nothing. Besides, it was a pleasant way to negotiate.

  In a while, Mother Hel rose and pulled on a robe of saffron silk, indicated a luxurious dressing gown that prompted Kerid to wonder how many such negotiations she had conducted, and tugged a bell cord.

  “We shall take breakfast, and then I’ll come with you to the harbor. We’ll take a guard.”

  “A guard, why?” Kerid belted the dressing gown, feeling oddly foolish.

  Mother Hel laughed. “Why, think on it, my love. You’ve your crew and three others; with them, three other captains. But only three warboats. You’ve more men than you need, and surely too many captains. Do you think they’ll calmly agree to your choosing who mans your boats?”

  “Andur …” Kerid began.

  “Is dead,” Mother Hel interrupted. “His army is defeated and, by all accounts, his greatest commander is fled. Talan brings all his might and a Vachyn sorcerer against Chorym, which shall likely fall. There are already Chaldor men here who look to join my pirates. Why, one of your captains has already offered his services.”

  “I’ll slay him,” Kerid snarled. “By the gods, I’ll hang him as a traitor.”

  “No!” Mother Hel lost her smile, her lovely face suddenly stern. “Here, you do not make such decisions; those are my province.”

  Kerid opened his mouth to argue, but then thought better of it. “Forgive me,” he asked, “I forget myself.”

  “Yes; do not do it again.” The smile returned. “I’d not lose you so soon.”

  There was such threat implicit in her sentence as prompted Kerid to remember the men hanging in the baskets. He bowed. “As you wish, Mother.”

  “Exactly.”

  There was a tapping at the door then, and Mother Hel motioned with careless imperiousness that Kerid open it. He obeyed, hiding his embarrassment behind a smile.

  Breakfast was brought in by liveried servants, silver platters redolent of eggs and kidneys, warm bread, fruit and cheeses set down. Kerid filled two cups with tea and brought them to the bed where Mother Hel still reclined.

  “We shall take my carriage,” she declared, “and I shall explain the situation to your fellows.”

  Kerid nodded, smiling his agreement.

  It was close on noon before Mother Hel had bathed and dressed, and then awhile longer before a two-wheeled cart was brought to the palace gates. Kerid was startled to see the vehicle was hauled not by horses, but six burly men.

  “Where could I stable horses on these islands?” Mother Hel asked. “I use convicted men instead. Drawing a carriage is easier than manning a galley’s oars, no?”

  “Yes,” Kerid said, wondering at this strange and apparently omnipotent woman.

  A
round them formed an escort of some fifty men, half-armored, with bucklers and short swords. Scarlet plumes fluttered atop their helmets, and Kerid saw that most wore scars. He thought they looked battle-hardened. Mother Hel clapped her hands and the cart and its entourage started forward.

  They reached the harbor and Kerid sprang from the cart, offering a gallant hand to Mother Hel as Nassim came forward. His mate turned aside to spit out a stream of filthy tobacco and effected a deep bow.

  “Mother Hel, it is an honor to meet you. I had not expected such a privilege.”

  Mother Hel beamed, extending a hand that Nassim dutifully kissed.

  “This,” Kerid said, “is Nassim, my first mate.”

  “And knows his manners,” the Mother returned. “Welcome to Hel’s Town, Nassim.”

  She clapped her hands and a man Kerid had not previously noticed came forward, opening a wooden box to extract numerous documents. He was short and bald, and panting from the journey.

  “The Danant vessel Talan’s Pride,” he intoned when he’d caught his breath. “Captured by Kerid of Chaldor, and therefore fair bounty. Of the other Chaldor vessels there are three—a triple-master, a barque, and a brig. The crews number some three hundred and fifty men. I calculate their value at …”

  He quoted figures Kerid did not understand, only that the promised warboats would take perhaps fifty men apiece, which meant he’d have to leave some two hundred Chaldor men stranded in Hel’s Town. He caught Nassim’s eyes speculative on him, shifting to Mother Hel. His first mate smiled lasciviously.

  “You drove a hard bargain, eh?” he whispered.

  Kerid felt his cheeks grow warm. “I did what I had to do.”

  Nassim chuckled.

  “So, shall we inspect your new boats?” asked Mother Hel.

  Kerid nodded dutifully and offered his arm as they walked along the wharf.

  The warboats sat low in the water, sleek as sharks, each with a single central mast and fifty oarlocks. Rowing benches angled like ribs from the gunwales to the central deck, and at the sterns there were wide rudders controlled by the tillers. To the prow of each boat was a small forrard deck on which was mounted a small arbalest, storage lockers for the metal-tipped shafts beside. They were not deep-water craft, but superbly designed for swift strikes—to run from shoreward cover and hit hard, then run back. Kerid thought they’d serve his purpose well.