Midnight Shadow

by Laurel O'Donnell

  “And now I want it all.”

  Taylor swallowed the ale in a surprised gulp. “All? Aren’t we getting a little greedy, Irwin?”

  He shrugged his scrawny shoulders. “If I have to get my fair payment this way, I might as well take it all.”

  Taylor dropped her chin to her chest, sighing. “I suppose I can’t talk you out of this.” Part of her didn’t want to. Her hands itched for a little swordplay.

  “Oh, your tongue is witty, but you’ll need more than that to change my mind.”

  Taylor set her mug down on the crate, careful not to spill its contents. Then she straightened up and faced Irwin. “All right.”

  Irwin’s beady black eyes widened. “You will give us the bag?”

  Taylor chuckled in disbelief. “Not a chance, Irwin,” she said. “If you want the bag, you’re going to have to take it.”

  Irwin’s companions laughed lasciviously.

  The half moon that lit the sky cast a bluish glow over the alley, allowing Taylor to see her opponents as they approached. They were both big men dressed in soiled breeches and ragged tunics -- one with a long, dark, unkempt beard that reached almost down to his stomach, the other missing two teeth. They moved slowly and laboriously. Taylor was certain that their bulk would be more hindrance than help in their actual fighting.

  “Get her,” Irwin ground out between his teeth.

  “Tsk-tsk, Irwin,” Taylor admonished. “You’re not the one doing the dirty work. Give them a moment to think. Here, gentlemen. Let me make this easy on you. One of you go to my right, the other to my left. Try to surround me.”

  The two men cast speculative glances at each other before doing what Taylor told them.

  “What an ingenious plot!” Taylor laughed. She continued to face Irwin, keeping the two men in her peripheral vision. Suddenly, the men acted. The one with the beard rushed her from her right while the other man charged from her left.

  Taylor feinted back and then stepped forward. The two men knocked shoulders, the man without the teeth falling onto his buttocks. Taylor whirled in time to see the man with the beard stomping toward her. She heard a movement behind her and brought her elbow back sharply into Irwin’s ribs, then danced two steps out of the bearded man’s path.

  “If this is the best you’ve got, you might as well leave now,” she scoffed.

  She stood two steps from the wall, able to see all the men. The man with two missing teeth climbed to his feet. Irwin stood beside the bearded man, his arm wrapped around his stomach.

  The man with two missing teeth drew a small dagger.

  All the amusement Taylor felt up until now disappeared. When weapons were drawn, it was no longer a game. Now, it was a fight for her life. She eased her sword from its sheath.

  The men halted for a long moment.

  “She’s a woman! She doesn’t know how to use it,” Irwin reassured the men. “It’s just for show.”

  “Then you come and get it, Irwin,” Taylor invited. “I’ll put on a show for you.”

  Irwin swallowed hard. “This is what I’m paying you for,” he said to the men. “There are two of you... and one of her.”

  The man with the missing teeth came forward, rage in his dark eyes. She had somehow insulted him and his anger was burning. He would fight irrationally. Every instinct told her to fight her way free and flee. But painful memories still lingered like a glowing ember inside her. She needed to bury them again. She needed a fight.

  The gap-toothed man approached steadily. Taylor did not move back until he lashed out at her. She ducked and whirled away, but he followed her, dogging her steps. She caught one of his swings with her sword, and the dagger bounced harmlessly off her blade. He kept at her, and she moved carefully within the small space of the alley, biding her time. Finally, he foolishly waved his weapon by her face and she took advantage of the moment. She reared her head back from the sharp edge of the dagger as it swept just beneath her chin—and thrust forward with her blade at the same time. She had meant to wound him enough to scare him, but the idiot stepped into her swing. The sword hit flesh and for a moment everything froze.

  The gap-toothed man’s dark eyes went round with surprise; his mouth went slack with shock. His dagger slipped from his fingers and it clattered against the ground.

  Taylor pulled her sword from his torso and turned.

  The fist that slammed into her face sent her reeling to the ground! Her head spun fiercely for a moment and her cheek throbbed with a pulsing, biting pain. A kick to her side spun her over onto her back. She lay with her eyes open, gasping for a breath, unsure whether the white blotches that flared before her eyes were stars in the night sky or patches of pain clouding her vision.

  A dark, twisted face suddenly appeared above her, a face covered with dirty hair and picked-at scabs. She felt hands shaking her shoulders. She saw lips moving and heard unintelligible sounds. Then two savage punches knocked her head back and this time she knew the flashes of white filling her vision didn’t come from the heavens above.

  She lay still for a long moment, her cheek pressing against the dust and dirt of the road. Slowly, the stars swimming before her eyes faded and the world came back into focus. She saw a splash of moonlight washing over her mug, which had overturned in the battle. Her eyes followed the thin stream of ale as it dripped down to the puddle below.

  The bearded man’s words cut through her fogginess. “Had enough?”

  “You spilled my ale,” Taylor groaned. She was rewarded with a brutal kick to her abdomen.

  As she lifted a limp hand to ward off any more blows, she heard laughter.

  “You were right,” Irwin whispered in her ear. “That was a good show.”

  Their shrill laughter faded into the distance.

  Taylor lay in the road for a long time, watching the growing pool of ale on the ground, wishing the pounding in her head would stop. She tasted blood in her mouth; her tongue traced a gash on her lip. She forced herself onto her back and lifted a hand to her throbbing left cheek. She knew it would swell and bruise before the morning. She closed her eyes, taking stock of her injuries. Stomach, side, but mostly her face. Her left cheek was by far the worst. The right cheek stung, but the ache was nowhere near as intense as the biting pain on the left side. Already she felt puffiness ringing her left eye. At least she didn’t think anything was broken.

  Her head pounded savagely behind her eyes and she rubbed her forehead with the tips of her fingers, unsuccessfully willing the pain to go away. She opened her eyes to contemplate the heavens and the God that had delivered her to such a fate.

  That was when she noticed that her ring was gone! Her mother’s ring! They had pried it from her fingers!

  She tried to push herself up off the ground, but didn’t make it past her hands and knees. “Damn it,” she whispered, groaning as pain shot through every muscle in her body. She was in no condition to pursue the thieves, but she vowed she would have the ring back. Whatever it took.

  She quickly scanned the alley, hoping they hadn’t taken everything. The man with the missing teeth lay sprawled not five feet from her. Her gaze shot past him, past her spilled ale, up the alley. Where was her sword? It wasn’t what they had been after. Had they taken it to sell it?

  She spotted her blade lying in the shadows against the wall of the tavern and breathed a sigh of relief.

  The sudden clattering of hooves made her freeze. She crawled into the shadows of the tavern, hoping that whomever it was would not look into this dirty alley -- and that it wasn’t some wretched God-loving knight with a penchant for doing good. She was in enough trouble in plenty of towns as it was.

  The horses continued past the alley without stopping. Taylor eased out of the shadows and took another look at the body only a few feet from her. The toothless man was definitely dead, his chest still and lifeless. Not the first man she had killed, and probably not the last. Unless, of course, she was caught here with his blood on her blade.

  The drippi
ng of her trickling ale caught her attention and she turned her head. Her mug rested on its side on the crate beside her. She reached up and grabbed it, then crawled over to her sword and took hold of it with trembling fingers. Kneeling, she resheathed the weapon, taking four tries to get it back into its scabbard.

  She pulled herself to her feet, using the wall as support. Mustering as much determination as she could, she willed the pain away and straightened only enough to walk toward the tavern. Each step was agony; each footfall pounded through her entire body.

  Finally, the open doorway of the tavern loomed before her. She stepped into the entryway and halted, leaning heavily against the wooden frame and closing her eyes against the throbbing pain that pierced every muscle in her body.

  “Sully!”

  When Taylor opened her eyes, she saw Jared sitting across the room between two buxom serving wenches. He jumped up and rushed to her side. Relief washed over her so completely her shoulders sagged and her entire body started to go limp.

  Taylor raised the empty mug. “I need a refill,” she grunted before collapsing into Jared’s arms.

  A Knight of Honor - Chapter Two

  Slane entered the Wolf’s Inn, his blue eyes narrowing immediately as he assessed the main room. It was the kind of place that had trouble brewing around every corner, where pickpockets lurked in every dark shadow, where a killer could be bought for a shilling. Laughter and conversation rose and fell around him. A harlot seated near the door reached under a table and demonstrated her skills to an eager-to-learn merchant. Four armored men sat to Slane’s right; all had the dull haze of too much ale in their red-streaked eyes. Most of the tables were occupied by solitary figures nursing their ales or filling their bellies with steaming vegetables and mutton. Nobody appeared to notice his presence, but he knew they were all aware of his entrance.

  “What can I do for you, m’lord?”

  Slane turned to see a short man standing beside him.

  The top of his balding head barely reached Slane’s shoulder. “I’m looking for a man called Jared Mantle.”

  The innkeeper chortled. “M’lord must understand that I can’t just –”

  Slane quickly produced a gold coin, silencing the man’s objections. The innkeeper pointed a chubby finger in the direction of a back table, where two men were sitting. Slane tossed over the gold coin and moved through the room toward the table.

  A lone candle illuminated the two figures in earnest conversation, one of them possibly a merchant -- no self- respecting tracker would wear such gaudy colors, nor tie a yellow-and-red scarf about his waist. Slane’s eyes quickly assessed the other man’s well-worn leather armor and easy confidence, and he knew that this man must be Jared. He was much older than Slane had anticipated, but his age was probably a testament to his skill. He was still alive, after all. “Jared Mantle?” Slane asked.

  The man raised his eyes, eyes that were suspicious and alert, to meet Slane’s. “Who’s asking?”

  Slane swiveled his gaze to the merchant and then back to Jared. “Slane Donovan.”

  Jared’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I’m Mantle. Do we have business?”

  “I’d like to hire you.”

  “I’m in the process of doing the exact same thing,” the merchant protested.

  “I can offer you double what this man is offering,” Slane said. “I need your services immediately.”

  Jared’s eyes shifted to the merchant. “Can you better that?”

  The merchant shook his head and rose from the table. “Perhaps next time,” he murmured, casting Slane an irritated glance before moving away.

  When Slane took the vacated seat, Jared asked, “What services do you require?”

  Slane couldn’t help but notice the skepticism in his voice. Had Jared had dealings with his brother, Richard? No matter. “I need you to find a ring.”

  “A ring?” Jared echoed. “What importance does a ring hold to you?”

  “That is my concern. Can you track such a thing?”

  “What does it look like?”

  Slane opened his mouth to respond when a woman slipped into the empty chair beside Jared. Annoyed at her presumption, Slane scowled... until he saw her face. It was covered in bruises and healing scabs. “God’s blood!” he exclaimed. “Where did you get those injuries?”

  The woman glanced over at Slane. The one eye that wasn’t puffed closed narrowed instantly, and her swollen lip curled into a humorless grin. “A friend.”

  He stiffened at her cold tone. “If you’ll kindly excuse us, we are in the middle of a business transaction. I’m not in need of your services.”

  The woman didn’t budge. “If it’s business, then you can talk to me as well. Jared and I are partners.”

  Slane darted a glance at Jared, who nodded, an amused look crinkling his eyes. “I’m only hiring you,” he said to Jared.

  “We come together or not at all,” Jared replied.

  Slane turned his thoughtful gaze to her. She responded with a chilly glare. He turned back to Jared. “Fine. But I don’t intend to pay any more than I did before.”

  “For the work of two?” the woman objected.

  Slane crossed his arms. “Take it or leave it.”

  He watched her shoulders sink as she sighed and glanced at Jared, who nodded once. “What’s the job?” she asked.

  Slane leaned across the table. “I’m looking for a ring. Two swords crossed under an S.”

  Jared and the girl sat motionless for a long moment, then looked at each other. Suddenly, the woman began to laugh.

  “What is so funny?” Slane snapped.

  She met his solemn look with amusement. “This is going to be the easiest coin we’ve ever worked for,” she replied.

  Slane frowned quizzically. “You know where it is?”

  She nodded and began to rise, but Slane grabbed her arm, halting her movement. “Look, woman. If you know where it is, tell me. We can begin and end your employment right here.”

  She hesitated for a moment casting an unreadable look at Jared. “Sully,” she finally said, her lips curving up in a grin. With her swollen lip, the smile was more grotesque than appealing. “My name is Sully, not woman.”

  ***

  Taylor leaned against a wall and crossed her arms over her chest as she regarded Slane out of curious eyes. What could he possibly want with her mother’s ring? They had been traveling together for half a day now and he hadn’t spoken one more word about it

  He glanced at her and she smiled brilliantly through her cut and fattened lips. He scowled and turned away.

  At least he’s consistent, she thought. Her gaze shifted to Jared, who was speaking earnestly with a large man -- a man who was almost as tall as Slane but with a much less flattering physique. His belly flopped over his breeches; the muscles in his arms were slack. Jared had sensed he was the town gossipmonger the second he laid eyes on him. And as usual, Jared was right. The large man looked at her and smiled, then glanced back at Jared and spoke quickly to him.

  Taylor shifted slightly. “This ring must be very important to rouse you from the comfort of Castle Donovan.”

  “Yes,” Slane answered stiffly.

  “No more tournaments to play in?” she quipped.

  He stared curiously at her.

  She cast him a wry look. It was like speaking to a wall. A well-muscled wall, with long, glorious blond hair, but a wall nonetheless.

  Jared and the man headed over to them, Jared wearing the same exasperated expression he always wore when some man would insist on propositioning her. Taylor shook her head. They never learned. Or were there just too many to teach?

  “He says he won’t give me any information unless you bed him,” Jared explained.

  As a large, eager grin split the man’s lips, Slane’s eyes widened in outrage.

  Taylor pushed herself from the wall, placing a hand on Slane’s chest to quiet him. “I’m used to it,” she said.

  “You’re not thinking –
” Slane began, but Taylor turned her attention to Jared.

  “You offered him a gold coin?”

  Jared shrugged slightly. “Two,” he said.

  Taylor smiled at the large man. “You know, you’re being quite unreasonable about this,” she told him. “All we need is information. You’ve seen the ring?”

  The man nodded. “I’ve seen it. But that’s all you’ll get from me unless I see some action.”

  “Action?” Taylor repeated. “Is that all you want?” She half turned to Slane, clenched her fist, and turned back to the man, ramming her balled fingers into his stomach.

  The man doubled over. Taylor shoved the brutish lout backward over Jared’s carefully positioned foot and he slammed into the ground. Taylor whipped out her dagger and held it to the man’s neck. “Is this the type of action you wanted?” she asked.

  The man fought back the urge to swallow as Taylor pressed the side of the blade against his throat.

  “All we want is a little information about the ring. I know that you’ll be very accommodating, won’t you?” Taylor eased the tip slightly from the man’s neck.

  “I don’t want any trouble,” the man gasped.

  “Out with it,” she ordered.

  “They went toward Briarwood,” he gasped. “I swear that’s all I know. They rode north!”

  Taylor paused for a long moment. She knew he was too shocked and scared to lie. Still, she liked the feeling of this slime groveling in the dirt. “Maybe next time you’ll think before you insult a woman,” she said and slowly stood up.

  The man sat up, putting his hands to his throat, eyeing her with hatred.

  Jared joined her, standing protectively behind her.

  Finally, the man narrowed his eyes, stood and scrambled away.

  Taylor’s lips quirked up in a grin of satisfaction.

  “I bet you make a lot of friends that way,” Slane said and moved toward the stables.

  “No one needs friends like that,” Taylor retorted, casting one last glance at the man’s retreating back before following Slane.