by K. C. May
Chapter 55
The leaves whispered of promises unkept as they shivered in the trees and tumbled across the forest floor. A copper-haired girl with tiny freckles on her nose beckoned him. She was Caevyan, yet he called out “Dagaz!” as he ran after her. His legs were wooden and unbending. The ground was soft like sand. “Papa!” she called, then ran away. Always elusive, staying ahead of him. She turned and waited, beckoning.
Her eyes were the color of blood.
A sharp noise jerked Gavin out of the dream. He looked around, trying to identify its source.
Tak-tak-tak.
The door. Papa was coming to tell him he’d forgotten to light the heater in the chicken coop. Coming to tell him the baby chicks were dead.
“Gavin,” someone whispered loudly.
No, not Papa. Coming more fully awake, he rose, pulled on his trousers and picked up his dagger. In the darkness, he made his way to the door, holding the knife between his teeth while he laced his trousers. Through the crack between the door and its frame came the sound of heavy breathing. Gavin took the knife in hand, drawing it from its sheath.
“Gavin, it’s me. Wake up. Gavin?” Daia’s voice.
Tak-tak-tak.
He unbolted and opened the door, but the hall was darker than his room. He squinted, trying to fit the image before his eyes into the context of Daia Saberheart. She had an armful of weapons. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
She squeezed past him into his room. “I’ve just killed someone.”
“Who? How?”
“Warrick Darktalon. He was lurking in the alley outside. Watching us, no doubt.”
Gavin shut the door and rubbed his eyes. “Did you say you killed Warrick? Brodas Ravenkind’s cousin, Warrick?”
“Yes. Gavin, they know we’re here.”
“Hell, tell me what happened,” he said.
“I was out... for a walk, and as I was coming back, he snuck up behind me.”
“He attacked you?”
“No, he thought I was an ally, sent by Cirang to watch the inn. He knew we were here, so the Sisterhood must know too. When he told me who he was, I killed him.”
Gavin used the night candle to light the oil lamp. The sight of blood on her sleeve twisted his gut. “You’re injured. Let me see,” he said, setting down the knife.
“It’s a scratch,” she said. “Gavin, I’m not sure we can trust Domach. He told you Warrick was in Calsojourn.”
“We can trust him. I read hazes, remember? Let me see your arm,” Gavin insisted. “Take your shirt off so I can look at it.”
“Gavin,” Daia warned.
“I need to see how badly you’re injured. You ain’t-- you’re not going to be able to battle if you’re hurt. It’ll take just a minute to heal you.”
Daia set the weapons she was carrying on the bed and took hold of the bottom of her tunic with her left hand. “Turn around.”
Gavin turned and waited, wondering how angry she would be if he peeked. He heard the rustle of cloth behind him. It occurred to him that he didn’t truly need her to remove her shirt, but he was certainly not going to stop her now. “What were you doing wandering about in the mirk-night, anyway?”
Several heartbeats of silence passed. “Feeling restless. All right, I’m ready. Let’s get this over with.”
When Gavin turned around, she was holding her tunic against her chest, but her arms, shoulders and back were fully exposed, and a little bit of her stomach. If he’d been at leisure to admire her naked torso, the taut skin and smooth muscle underneath, he’d have fallen to his knees, begging her to let him touch her. But the cut needed his attention; blood flowed freely down her arm.
He picked up the shirt he’d left wadded on the floor and blotted the blood from her wound. The cut went deep into the muscle tissue. “How’d you manage to grip your sword?”
“I didn’t, but I had a knife in my left hand.”
Gavin stepped up behind her and put his right hand over the gash, instantly feeling the heat build. He put his other hand on her left shoulder. Her back was to him, her body warm so close to his. Gavin felt a familiar stirring in his groin. This ain’t the time for that, he reminded himself.
“Do you need help?” she whispered.
“No.” He closed his eyes and concentrated. The white fluttering came easier this time, more quickly, and after a few moments, his hand cooled. He wasn’t sure he’d succeeded until he lifted his hand away and saw that the wound was sealed with new pink skin. He waited for the black spots to cloud his vision, but they didn’t come. “Hm! It worked.”
She checked her arm, lifted it to the side a couple times, then stepped away, smiling up at him. “My thanks, Kinshield. Do you feel all right?”
He paused for dramatic effect, then pretended to swoon, opening his arms to her.
She pushed him away, still clutching her shirt to her chest. “Nice try. Turn around and let me dress.”
Gavin sighed and turned around. While he rinsed her blood from his hand in the wash basin, he said, “Well, for killing Warrick you deserve a medal. That’s going to anger Brodas beyond measure. If he finds out who did it, he’ll slay your whole family.” He wiped his wet hand on his trouser leg and turned around to face her, hoping for the need to apologize. But she’d finished dressing.
“Don’t worry. He won’t know it was me,” she said with a mischievous grin.
“Look, I’m betting Ravenkind told Demonshredder the story about being able to get the King’s Blood-stone to lure us to the cave. He sends Warrick to watch us, waiting for us to leave...”
“Warrick runs back and tells Ravenkind,” Daia added, nodding. “They come after us, arriving just in time to see you solve the rune. They’ll probably arrive with a whole regiment of Viragon Sisters and try to take the King’s Blood-stone by force.”
“Yeh, or could be a regiment’s already there.”
“Choose your battleground,” Daia said pensively.
“What?”
“Of two equal forces, which has the advantage in battle?”
Gavin nodded with a grin. “Yeh. The one who chooses the battleground. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“He’s probably asleep, waiting for Warrick to come and rouse him with word that we’re on our way to the cave. If we go to Ravenkind’s house--”
“--we could rescue Risan and get out afore Ravenkind’s even awake,” Gavin finished. “And go to the cave at our leisure.”
“If he’s after the King’s Blood-stone, we’ll have to face him sooner or later. But if we go to the cave directly, we take the risk that Risan won’t be alive by the time we get around to saving him. And as you said, a couple dozen Sisters are probably already there, waiting.”
“We’d have surprise on our side by showing up at his house. But Ravenkind’s home ain’t— isn’t exactly the battleground of choice. We’ve never been there; we don’t know what to expect.”
“Domach does,” Daia said. “And without Warrick, Ravenkind will be more vulnerable.”
They regarded each other for a moment, a silent agreement reached.
“It was Edan, wasn’t it?” she asked softly. “You asked Edan to claim the King’s Blood-stone.”
“Yeh.” Gavin lifted his chin toward the knife and two swords she’d set on the bed. “You get those off of Warrick?”
“Mostly,” she said. “He said no, didn’t he?”
Gavin nodded, his head hung.
She put a warm, gentle hand on his arm, sending a tingle through his heart and straight to his groin. He raised his eyes to hers. “It’ll be all right.”
The look in her pale blue eyes, so full of trust and faith and caring, filled him with an urgent desire to take her into his arms and make long, tender love to her. She was so beautiful. So strong. “I can’t do it alone,” he said.
“You won’t have to.” She smiled. “Come on. Let’s wake the others.”
Was she saying she would consider a proposal? He took a breath.
There would be time for that later. “Yeh. The sooner we get moving, the better our chances of living through the night.”
Chapter 56
Shortly before dawn, the five battlers crept up behind the barn at Brodas’s manor, single file, and huddled there. Edan, Daia, Brawna and Domach turned to Gavin with expectant faces. “Awright Demonshredder,” he said softly, “how do we get in?”
“On the other side of that brick wall,” Domach said, “is a courtyard, and beyond that, the back door to the manor. That would be the safest way in.” His breath was white against the darkness of the morning.
Gavin looked around at the others; Edan’s brow was drawn, Brawna chewed her lip, and Daia had a gleam in her eye. “Awright. I’ll see how many guards.” He shifted forward but Daia stayed him with a firm grip on his arm.
“No, I’ll go. It’s too risky.”
“Now ain’t the time to argue about this,” he said. He had all the confidence in the world in Daia, but he resisted allowing her to lead him into danger. He should go first.
“Gavin,” she whispered, “I know you feel responsible for us all, but I have to keep you alive at least until we know the King’s Blood-stone’s safe. Just bite on this one, all right?”
He drew in a breath. She had a good point, but he still didn’t like it. “Take Edan with you, then,” he insisted.
Daia looked at Edan and jerked her head toward the manor.
Gavin scanned for patrolling guards while the two of them crept around the barn and made their way, crouched, to the five-foot stone wall that defined the boundary of the courtyard. Gavin should be doing that instead. If either of them were injured, he would never forgive himself.
Daia poked her head around the corner of the opening, where a gate hung crookedly from one hinge. She held up one finger and leaned to whisper into Edan’s ear. Edan nodded and they traded places. He nocked an arrow. With one motion, admirably fluid, he pulled the string, leaned around the corner, and fired with a soft thoop. He waved Gavin and the others forward.
Gavin, Domach and Brawna crept over to join Daia and Edan. “Good job, One-Shot,” Gavin said. “There are prob’ly more around front.”
“We can probably avoid them,” Edan said.
“If someone sees us and sounds an alarm, we’ll wish we’d killed them,” Daia replied.
Gavin nodded. “Yeh. Edan, you and Daia go around front and down any guards you see. Demonshredder, where’s Ravenkind keeping Risan?”
“In the cellar. The entrance is in the kitchen, just inside the back door.”
“We might be able to rescue Risan and get out without Ravenkind knowing,” Edan said.
“Let’s hope. But the bastard has my sword,” Gavin said, looking up at the manor with narrowed eyes.
“He keeps it in the library,” Domach whispered. “I suggest you go down and get Risan and I’ll get your sword.”
Gavin nodded. “Good plan.”
“What should I do?” Brawna asked.
Gavin looked around at the others for suggestions, but everyone looked to him for his command. “I need you at my back. Come to the house with us. Stand watch. Take down anyone who happens by. Everyone clear on your jobs?” he asked.
They all nodded.
“You two come to the back door when you’ve taken care o’the guards in front,” he said to Daia and Edan. With a beckoning wave of his arm, Gavin started into the courtyard. The body of the slain guard lay in the grass, and he made his way to it. Domach tapped Gavin’s shoulder and motioned him to go on to the house. Domach picked up the guard’s arm, pulled the body over his shoulder, and started back toward the stable. Gavin motioned to Brawna to follow him, and they crept to the back door of the manor.
Expecting to find it locked, Gavin turned the knob slowly. The latch clicked open.
Brawna followed Gavin through the back door and into a small covered porch. Mops, brooms and dustpans, crates of rags lined the walls. Beyond the threshold was the kitchen, immaculately kept. To the right, on the adjacent wall, was an open door and beyond it, a narrow hallway. Ahead, a large wooden freezing box sat against one wall with a door on each side of it. One had a heavy padlock. Probably the cellar. Brawna scanned the walls and found a key hanging from a nail. She tapped Gavin’s shoulder, holding the key between her finger and thumb. Gavin grinned as he took it, and unlocked and opened the door.
The cellar was completely dark. Gavin beckoned Brawna with a finger.
“Look around for a lamp,” he whispered into her ear.
The feeling of his prickly cheek and warm breath against her ear sent a thrill through her. Such a man he is. She’d seen the way he looked at Daia. If Brawna could impress him somehow, he might look at her that way too.
She ducked through the door on the right and started down a long hallway. On the right were three closed doors and on the left a staircase leading up. She went to the first door and eased it open. It was a tiny closet full of junk, but she saw no lamp. She closed the door and went to the next.
As she reached for the knob, it turned suddenly and swung inward. A white-haired man on the other side gasped and jerked. She ran her blade to the guard into his chest. He let out a groan and fell to the floor with a thud.
By Yrys, I killed him. Her knees went weak and she stumbled, catching herself with her free hand on the doorframe. The feel of her sword as it slid out of his body unnerved her. Her mouth watered and her stomach lurched. Beyonders she had no trouble with, but she’d never thought she would kill an unarmed grandfatherly gent. Then she recognized the sympathetic face of Brodas’s steward, now slack and expressionless. The longer she stared at his dead face, the more horrible the sight of it became. His blood was on her sword, on her hand and sleeve, on her soul. Yrys no, please, take it back. A gagging sound escaped her throat.
She had to get control of herself. Gavin was counting on her. The king was counting on her. She could worry over the loss of life later. Brawna took a deep, steadying breath and stepped into the bedroom. Taking the man by the arms, she dragged him back away from the door, looking aside so that she wouldn’t have to see the face of the person she’d slain. A lamp sat on the night table. She grabbed it, shut the door behind her, and returned to the kitchen.
“What was the noise?” Gavin asked into her ear.
“I happened upon the manservant,” she whispered back.
Domach came into the kitchen and nodded to them both. He pointed to the sword on his hip, then to Gavin, and tiptoed down the hall Brawna had come from.
“He’s dead?” Gavin asked her.
She nodded and stifled another gag.
“You awright?”
She swallowed hard and nodded again, although she didn’t feel all right. She’d killed an innocent human being, a man that someone had loved. Someone’s brother, father, uncle and friend.
He put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. While she held the lamp in her quaking hands, he struck a piece of flint with his knife and lit it. Then he pulled the glove from his waistband and drew it onto his left hand. With his sword in the gloved hand and the lamp in the other, he went through the door.
Should she go with the king to protect him? No, he’d killed Enamaria easily enough. Brawna could offer him no protection except by guarding the door. She watched, holding her breath and trembling still, while he started down the stairs.
Chapter 57
The cellar started to brighten, not from the daylight falling down between the boards above, but from the staircase. A few of the stairs creaked as heavy footsteps descended.
Risan sat up, waking Dwaeth with his movement. He cupped a hand gently over the boy’s mouth, then whispered, “Stay quiet,” into his ear. He eased himself down from atop the wardrobe, picked up the broken leg of a chair, and held it ready.
“Risan,” someone said quietly. “Are you here?”
Could it be Domach come to help? Risan would take any help he could get -- even from the man who had beaten him unconscious. But ne
ither would he take chances. If it meant getting out of the cellar alive, he’d take down anyone who stood between him and the door. He flexed his fingers around the makeshift club.
A giant of a man stepped around the corner. In his right hand, he held a lamp, in his left a sword. Not Domach. Risan stepped forward, ready to let loose with a mighty blow. Then recognition bloomed. Gavin Kinshield.
Risan released the club and it clattered to the floor. “Gavin, praise Yrys, it is you.” Risan held out his hand, and Gavin set the lamp on the table and grasped it. Risan felt Gavin’s fingers slip over his fingerless knuckles and loosen, but he gripped Gavin’s hand more firmly and took the warrant knight’s massive forearm with his other hand, pumping madly. “Damn, I am so glad to see you.”
“Good to see you’re awright,” Gavin said softly. He raised his eyes to Dwaeth sitting on the wardrobe.
“Ravenkind?” Risan whispered.
Gavin pointed up. “Asleep.”
Risan turned and beckoned Dwaeth with a wave of his hand. The boy climbed down and came over. Risan put an arm around Dwaeth’s shoulders and pulled him close. “Dwaeth, this is my friend, Gavin,” he whispered. “Let’s go upstairs.”
Dwaeth eyed Gavin warily.
Gavin sheathed his sword and squatted down on his haunches. “You look like a strapping boy about the size of my youngest nephew. What are you, about six? Seven?”
Dwaeth nodded. “Six,” he whispered. “I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”
“Gavin is not stranger,” Risan said quietly. “He is hero who saved my lovely wife from drowning, and now he is here to help us. Gavin is real warrant knight, strongest swordsman in all Thendylath. His horse, Golam, is big as mountain. If he was stranger, you would not know so much about him, would you?”
