Spying one of the captains, Emmerich called out, “Owen!”
Owen jogged up to him and bowed. “Aye, my lord?”
“Has Captain Asher sent the terms yet?”
“The messenger left barely a candle mark ago, my lord.”
“Thank you, captain.”
“My lord.”
Emmerich returned to his tent and sat down with a sigh at the table. Reaching out, he took the handkerchief laying there, unfolding it to reveal the medal. He regretted, suddenly, not telling her everything. But did it really matter? He had murdered someone he claimed to love and there was no explaining that away. Explaining wouldn't bring Monica back, wouldn't undo his crime. Yet, he had never cared before what others thought, but now it pained him to think Clara was away from him and thinking him a monster, no matter how true that may be. No matter how much he may deserve it.
A rustle behind him caused him to turn and he felt a bit of surprise at seeing Captain Asher.
“Captain Owen,” Asher said, “told me you were awake.”
“Aye. Sit down. It's too early in the morning for ceremony.”
Asher sat across from him at the table. “Then I'll be bold enough to say that you look awful, my lord.”
“I didn't sleep well.”
“Is there anything you wish to speak about?”
“No.” He tried to smile to take the bite out of the word. “But thank you for the inquiry.”
“The men I sent to look at the gate have returned.”
“What have they learned?”
“The gate is still jammed.”
Emmerich closed his eyes in relief. “Gather six men who can swim. I will lead them myself.”
“My lord–”
“No arguing. You will lead the charge against Candor.”
“The men will need to see you, my lord. Send me. I can swim well enough.”
“I will not put my successor in that sort of danger.”
“Be as that may, the men will still need you for morale. There are already doubts because of the Seer's absence.”
Emmerich thought about that.
Asher took his pause as opportunity to continue. “I can choose someone else to lead the squad of men. It doesn't need to be either of us. But I believe it to be essential that you lead the charge.”
Emmerich nodded reluctantly. “Very well.” He scrubbed his face with his hand. “Any other news?”
“We stopped a caravan last night, on its way to Candor.”
“Oh?”
“They had news of Lord Gavin. One of the women claims she saw a man matching Gavin's description, wearing chains and a collar, being taken by three wizards to Barlow's Crossing.”
Emmerich sighed. “There's a portal there.”
“He is definitely in Bertrand, now, my lord.”
“Where he is either dead or being tortured for information.”
“Do you think he will break, my lord?”
“Everyone has a breaking point, Asher. The question is whether or not Marduk will find Gavin's breaking point.”
“How much did he know of your plans for invading Candor and Bertrand?”
“Gavin was the lynch pin in the plan for taking Candor. And we didn't speak of a secondary plan, so there's no information in that score. We'd gone over several plans for entering Bertrand but we never settled on anything for certain.”
“That's still a lot of information.”
“Aye. It is. But I can't imagine Marduk capturing him only for that.”
“You believe that he's at work on something else?”
“I do. I have a gut feeling that says there is more he's cooking up besides unnatural creatures.”
“Soldiers have been sent to fortify Candor.”
“True, but it has the feeling of a consolation gesture, as if he's pretending to care.”
“Perhaps his experiments have his attention. Or he believes it makes him invincible.”
“It's a possibility but my gut says it's otherwise.”
Emmerich pondered the problem, feeling like there was something he was missing. After a moment, he shook his head. “I think I need some breakfast in me before trying to guess the motivations of a madman.”
“I will fetch it for you, my lord.”
“No, no. I can walk to the dining tent to get it. Go about your duties. And you're my successor now. In private, please call me Emmerich.”
“Very well, Emmerich. I will let you know when the messenger has returned.”
“Thank you, Asher.”
Several se'ennights after the incident with the Steward, Clara awoke knowing the army prepared to attack Candor. She could see, like a haze over her eyes, Emmerich being dressed in his armor. She could see the army forming and the giant spire that was the siege tower. She could hear the horses whinnying and the stomp of boots. The sharp musk of leather and horse pierced her nose.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to push it away, as she did that day when she saw Emmerich's death. But it refused to move; she could not turn away. Distantly, she heard Cassie come into the room and speak to her. But she could not answer.
I have to get up, Clara told herself. I have to hear the court cases today.
Breathing in and out, she pushed at the images, twisting and pulling away from them as they tried to hold on to her mind. To her shock, they began to ebb away until they were in the background, like three or four people standing directly behind her and murmuring in low voices.
Cassie looked at her with concern. “Are you all right, my lady?”
Clara nodded, getting out of bed.
“Today is the day of attack, isn't it?”
Another nod.
“Perhaps you should remain in your chambers, then, my lady. Lord Emmerich warned me–”
Clara shook her head as she walked to the washbasin. Splashing water onto her face and rubbing vigorously, she tried to ignore the image of Emmerich mounting his horse. As Clara went through the motions of dressing and eating breakfast, the future and the present mixed and melded in the back of her mind. She stopped every few minutes to breathe and focus on each task as she completed it. But time still managed to slip from her.
In fact, she almost jerked with surprise when she found herself standing in the audience chamber, a crowd of peasants waiting to be heard. The room was silent as they waited for her to give the signal for the Steward to begin the proceedings. Clara, trying to not shake both with nerves and the force of the visions, sat in the oak chair and nodded.
The Steward read the first case from the scroll (a dispute between two merchants) and she focused so hard on judging the case, she gave herself a headache.
(They were making the final approach. She could see, one moment, a soldier bolting forward early and, the next, the gates opening wide and welcoming Emmerich with open arms.)
The next case involved a woman and her inheritance. The brothers wished for a share but she demanded that she had the right to keep it all.
(Emmerich sat tall and strong on his horse while a messenger shouted down at him. One moment, Emmerich ordered the attack while, in another, the men cheered, the gates opened, and the city surrendered.)
Three boys were caught stealing. The merchant wished to press charges. But the boys were obviously starving and had only taken a little bread.
(Now the siege tower was being pushed along the bridge. Fire was being thrown only for boiling oil to be thrown in its place moments later. Men swam under a gate into a cavernous port below the city, defeating the men guarding the port, only for them to die in the water seconds later.)
Cassie whispered Clara's name into her ear to bring her back to the moment. A man was accused of beating another man, seriously injuring him. But the accused claimed he had been goaded into it by the victim.
(Bloody battles waged on bridges leading into Candor City. Emmerich fell from his horse only to rise again. Asher died only to live again. Arrows blackening the sky; this was the only constant.)
&
nbsp; The cases ended. Clara felt as if she had missed something. She looked to Cassie, who whispered, “You judged fairly, my lady. Have no fear.”
The peasants were filing out and the Steward was outlining the business of the day. The end of summer was approaching and they had to prepare for the harvest.
(A horn was winding. The images were fading. Someone won. They had won. The vision almost overwhelmed her but she saw the men pouring into the city. There was looting one moment and none the second. The siege tower toppled to one side and suddenly did not. But there was one constant: Emmerich's black stallion stood riderless.)
“My lady?” Cassie asked, alarmed, as Clara sunk to her knees. “My lady, do you wish to return to your chambers?”
She almost let Cassie lead her away. But the open fear in the Steward's face made her shake her head and stand. If it was true, if the end had finally come for him, they could not know. Not yet, at any rate.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
That evening, Clara went to her room exhausted. A headache pounded in her head and the niggling feeling of disaster still rode her shoulders.
“I will prepare a hot bath,” said Cassie.
Clara nodded and sat on the couch, leaning against the arm and closing her eyes. She had waited all day for a messenger to come with something brought by pigeon or falcon. But nothing had come. Could she dare to hope that, for once, she had been wrong?
A muffled shout from the corridor made her open her eyes. She could hear the scuffling of boots and the clang of steel upon steel. A rush of adrenaline pushed away her fatigue and she scrambled to her feet. Clara ran to her bedchamber just as the door behind her opened.
Turning, she saw a man, in the blue and white uniform of the soldiers, bloody sword in hand, followed by five men, enter the room. Cassie came out of the bathing room. When she saw them, she opened her mouth to scream but he reached out and hacked off her head, leaving it to hang by a few pieces of sinew. Blood fountained as her corpse fell to the floor.
Horrified, Clara ran into her room as the other men gave chase. She slammed the door closed behind her, locking it, and snatched up her sword from beside her bed. Unsheathing it, she faced the door.
There was no way out. No secret passages (that she knew of) and no one was coming for her. She opened her mouth, trying to force a shout, but the resulting panic almost made her throw up as something heavy began to slam repeatedly against the door. Adjusting her sweaty grip, she raised the sword and planted her feet.
There was only one thing for it.
With a squeal of breaking metal and shattering wood, the men gained entrance.
“She needs to be alive,” cried the leader as Clara stepped forward to meet them.
The first man hesitated in trading blows with her and she took advantage of the first opening by slicing open his gut. Intestines rolled out onto the floor and she gagged even as she turned to meet the next man.
But she was unprepared for two men coming at her at once. One met her sword while the other clubbed her in the back of her head. She fell to the bloodstained floor and blacked out.
When Emmerich awoke, he laid in a strange bed and his side felt as if it were on fire. He tried to sit up and grunted as the pain lanced through him. Something moved in the room and a lamp was lit. A very tired Asher looked down on him.
“It is good to see you awake, my lord,” he said.
Emmerich fell back onto the pillows. “What happened?”
“You were injured in the battle. We nearly lost you several times, in fact, but the healers here are quite good. They saved you.”
“I take it we won?”
“Aye. I accepted the sword of office as lord of Candor in your stead. I hope you don't mind.”
“Well, you can keep it.”
Asher grinned. “I don't think I can do that, my lord.”
“How many times do I need to tell you to call me Emmerich?”
“One more time, I think, my lord.”
He snorted. “How many men did we loose?”
“Thirty deaths, twenty are wounded.”
“Not that bad.”
“Especially since we took the un-takeable city.”
“What turned the tide?”
“The squad we sent to slip in through the water gate. They opened one of the main gates.”
“Excellent. I must have fallen shortly before then.”
“You had, my lord. You took a spear in the side. It really is a miracle that you are alive.”
“Has word been dispatched to Orlind that all is well?”
“I've sent men to go fetch her ladyship. But I will dispatch a pigeon on the morrow. It is night, now, my lord.”
Emmerich shot him an angry look. “You should have spoken to me about sending for the Seer first.”
“The men need the Seer here.”
“They won this battle just fine without her.”
“Aye, but do you think they'll remember that when we reach Bertrand? I'm sorry, my lord, but this was a decision I made for the good of our men.”
Emmerich wanted to argue but he could see the logic in Asher's reasoning. He nodded grudgingly. “Very well. Any other news?”
“None worth reporting, my lord.” He stood. “I'll leave you to rest.” He turned to go.
“Wait. When I was undressed, did anyone come across a handkerchief with a medal?”
“Aye.”
“Where is it?”
Asher opened a drawer in the bedside table and took it out. Emmerich held out his hand Asher placed it in his palm.
“Thank you.”
“Do you require anything else, my lord?”
“No. No, that is all.”
“Then I will leave you to your rest.” Asher bowed and, after turning down the flame of the lamp, left Emmerich in near-darkness, holding the handkerchief to his chest.
When Clara woke, it was to the sound of water slapping the sides of a boat and to the sight of stars gently gliding by overhead. Her hands were bound behind her back and her feet were also tied. Rolling to her side, she pushed and wiggled until she managed to sit up.
Torchlight illumined the small riverboat. A man sat at the rudder, guiding them down the river, while other men sat around quietly talking. They had changed from their uniforms to the neutral tones of peasants. The leader, on seeing her awake, came to kneel beside her. When he came close enough, she swung her legs out as hard she could and caught in the side of the knee.
Grunting, the man dropped to one knee and, quicker than she could see, slapped her.
“None of that,” he grunted. “You do that again, and we'll tie ya t' the mast. Understand?”
Slowly, she nodded.
“Now, d'ya know where we're takin' ya?”
Clara could very well guess but she shook her head.
“To the Tieran capital. To King Precene. How's that sound?”
Clara blinked. The Tieran king was Emmerich's ally. Why would they kidnap her? She scowled at him, remembering suddenly how he had slain Cassie. Sweet, brave Cassie, the only real friend she had ever had. At that moment, she was so full of rage, her sight almost ran red with it.
“Don't look at me like that, girl,” he said. “I didn't have a choice. The King has my family. It was either you, or I'd ne'er see 'em again. What would you have done?”
Fight, she thought. She would have fought. Unable to contain herself, she spat into his face, and braced for another slap.
But it never came. He wiped his face with his shirtsleeve. “I suppose I deserve that.” And he stood and rejoined the others.
Clara looked back up at the stars and tried not to cry.
Asher finished reading the newly received missive and looked up at Emmerich, whose eyes were dark with rage and pain. Beside Asher stood Owen and Wilhelm.
“Kidnapped,” Emmerich whispered.
“A soldier is on his way to give a fuller report,” explained Asher, “but her guards, lady's maid, and one of the traitors were all found
slain and Lady Clara missing. They believe she was taken away by boat in the nearby Braddock River. We believe they must be heading for the portal at Barlow's Crossing, which is ten miles north of here. It's been several days, so they are close to reaching it, if they haven't already.”
“Send men there, immediately. Perhaps we still have time.”
“Aye, my lord.”
“Does the missive say who was the leader of the traitors?”
“No, my lord. The soldier should give us more information.”
“Could there be more traitors, here?”
“It is a possibility, my lord. I have hired bards and asked friends among the soldiers to keep an ear out for dissension.”
“Good.”
Emmerich fell silent, his face a stony mask. Asher had never seen him like this and it frightened a part of him. Suddenly, Emmerich hissed and clutched his side.
“My lord?” asked Captain Wilhelm. “Should we send for the healer?”
“No,” he gasped. “No, I am fine. Asher, go and send the men. Every moment they aren't on their way is a moment wasted. And be sure to subdue Barlow's Crossing. It seems we may have missed something when we passed near there.”
“Aye, my lord.” He licked his lips. “There is a chance of recovering her, my lord.”
“If she makes it to Bertrand, there may be nothing to recover. Go. All of you.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
They reached a small town on the river just as the sun crested the tree line. The boat docked next to similar riverboats, though some twice as long as it. A large ferry bearing livestock slowly drifted across the wide river while, on the docks, men loaded and unloaded boats. A faded wooden sign by the road leading away from the docks read “Barlow's Crossing”.
The leader walked over and, untying Clara's feet, he grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet. With rough hands, he buckled a slave's collar around her throat. Clara glared at him but made no move to resist.
“Come on,” he said, latching a lead to the collar and pulling her along behind him as he stepped from boat to dock.
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