by Jane Glatt
“I think so …oh,” Brenna gasped in shock and clutched at the burning pain in her left shoulder. “Kane,” she said as she reached for her knife. She ignored her body as she slid from her chair to the floor and she sent all her awareness, all her energy, through her knife to find Kane.
“Kane,” she called out, searching for him. There, she found him, a small light amongst all the other lights she could see. She tracked him for a few moments, still feeling pain in her shoulder then suddenly, he wasn’t there.
Kane winced against the pain and leaned close over his horse as it galloped between two trees.
“Keep Beldyn in front,” he yelled to the gray-clad soldier riding ahead of him. The man nodded and Kane slowed his horse. His shoulder burned. When he looked over he saw a full foot of the shaft of an arrow sticking out, the sharp point red with his blood. He had to break it off, he thought looking at the dense trees in front of him. If the arrow got caught in the brush it could rip half his shoulder away. He leaned his head as close to his shoulder as he could and bit down on the wood. He gripped the shaft with his right hand and snapped the arrow off at his teeth. He closed his eyes against the pain and straightened in his saddle, spitting out wooden splinters. He tossed the shaft away before he turned to look behind. His lips thinned when he saw the dark shapes of his pursuers.
He, Beldyn and Gaskain’s troops had made it out of Kingsreach safely. They’d been less than a mile away from Gaskain and the rest of his forces when their pursuers had found them. He looked ahead along the path in time to see the horse in front disappear behind some bushes. Kane nodded. Beldyn would be safe as long as he didn’t lead them to him. He flicked the reins of his horse and veered off to the left. If he was lucky he’d meet up with more of Gaskain’s men. If he wasn’t lucky … he’d worry about that later.
His horse dodged a tree and Kane’s shoulder brushed a branch. He gritted his teeth against the pain and sucked in his breath. It was all he could do to control the reins with one hand - he’d never be able to wield a weapon, even if there was room in the dense forest.
His horse scrambled up a steep hill and Kane leaned over the saddle. There was a shout from the top and Kane saw a silhouette of a mounted soldier wielding a sword. A few strides closer and he could just make out the dark uniform of the Kingsguard. Desperately Kane wheeled his horse around. It slipped on the steep incline and twisted wildly, trying to stay on its feet. Kane desperately clutched at the saddle but he felt himself sliding off his horse. He landed on his injured shoulder - there was a searing burst of pain and then, mercifully, nothing.
“Kane,” Brenna sobbed. “Kane.” She rubbed her hands across her forehead, hoping to ease her pounding headache. When she searched for Kane she almost passed out again.
“Brenna, draw some strength from me.” Dasid leaned over her and she shook her head wildly.
“We have to find out what happened to Kane, lass.” She looked up into Pater’s worried face. He placed a cool cloth on her head and she felt some relief. “If ye won’t take it from Dasid then take energy from me.”
“No, you don’t understand,” she said weakly. “I can’t.” I’ll kill you, she finished in her head, too drained to speak. She’d use them up, she knew. In her need to feel Kane, hear Kane, find Kane, she’d forget everything else including the people who were helping her. The last thing she remembered was Dasid pleading with her.
When she woke again her mouth was dry and her headache had subsided a little.
“Here, lass,” Pater said.
She opened her eyes to find him holding a glass of water. He helped her sit up and she sipped the liquid carefully, slowly, until it was gone.
“And I’ve yer pack here as well.” He put her leather pack on her lap and opened it up. “Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it for ye.”
She sighed and leaned back as he rummaged through the various herbs and salves. She nodded when he held up two small packets. Pater left and she closed her eyes, trying not to think about Kane.
“Here it is, Brenna,” Pater said. He brought the steaming cup toward her. “I hope I made it all right.” He helped her sit up again and she sniffed at the tea. She’d had him grind ginseng and lavender and then add them to a strong tea made with lemons, if they could be found. She sipped at it, the tart lemons making her mouth pucker. When it cooled she gulped the rest of it down, hoping it would work quickly.
“Where are Dasid and Wils?” she asked. For the first time she looked at the room she was in. It was a small sitting room and a warm fire crackled in the hearth. She was propped up on a settee, a soft woolen blanket pulled over her.
“They’re with King Mannel and his daughter,” Pater said. “But they’re both very worried. About you and Kane.”
“I’m worried about Kane too. As soon as I have enough energy I’ll try to contact him.” Brenna tested her abilities and fell back against the settee. “I’ll want another tea in half an hour Pater,” she said. “But this time add more lavender.”
“Ye’d let me know if I was givin’ ye too much, I hope,” Pater said with a sigh.
After two more teas Brenna felt slightly better. She settled herself back on the settee, unsheathed her knife and reached out for Kane. It took more than ten minutes but finally she felt a spark - faint and distant, but Kane was there.
“He’s alive,” she said to Dasid and Pater. “I don’t have a strong connection but it’s Kane. I’m going to try to contact Jemma and find out what Gaskain knows.”
“Take care, Brenna,” Dasid said. “We need to help Kane but we need you healthy more.”
She nodded and closed her eyes calling for Jemma.
“Brenna, thank the gods,” Jemma said. Brenna felt Jemma turn away for a moment. “Do you know where Kane is? The Kingsguard caught up to Kane and Beldyn. Kane was last seen when he told a soldier to make sure Beldyn stayed ahead.”
“I don’t know where he is,” Brenna said. If the Kingsguard had him … “Jemma, he’s alive but I can’t reach him. I’ve used too much energy already tonight. Gaskain has to send troops, he has to get him back.”
“And he will Brenna, he will.” Jemma’s tone soothed her. “Gaskain says he’ll send out some scouts but if he’s been caught he’s most likely at Thorold’s estate. It’s easier to guard than the castle.”
“That’s where they’ve taken him then,” Dasid said when Brenna told him what Gaskain had guessed. “After tonight Thorold won’t trust anyone to hold the church or the castle. And he’ll want to see Kane himself.”
“Yes,” she agreed with a shudder. Would Thorold want to kill Kane himself or would he leave that to the High Bishop?
“Get some rest,” Dasid said. “Gaskain will get him out.”
“He has to,” Brenna said. She rolled over and pulled the blanket over her head. He has to.
Thorold gingerly pushed a toe into the prisoner’s side then, smiling, he drew his foot back and kicked, hard. The prisoner’s body rocked with the impact but he didn’t flinch or wake up.
“He’s been unconscious since your men grabbed him?” Thorold asked.
“Yes my Lord. He took a fall from his horse,” Barton replied.
“And my son? He got away?”
“Yes my Lord. I had men in pursuit but he managed to meet up with their main force. Almost two hundred men, at least half of them mounted. We’ll follow them if they leave, of course.”
“Oh they won’t be leaving,” Thorold said the toe of his shoe hovering over the bloodied shoulder of his prisoner. “They won’t leave without Kane Rowse.” He stepped down onto the prisoner’s shoulder. It was really too bad Rowse couldn’t feel pain right now. But eventually he’d wake up - then he’d feel more pain than he had ever imagined was possible.
“I want this house surrounded by Kingsguard,” he said. “And close the gates to the city. No one gets in without my permission, do you hear me Captain?”
“Yes my Lord. I’ll see to it immediately.” Barton bowed and turned t
o leave.
“And Captain,” Thorold said just as he reached the door. “Capturing Rowse was well done. See that there are no more disappointments from now on.”
“Of course my Lord,” Barton said and left the room.
“Make sure he’s bound well,” Thorold said to the two guards who remained. “And tell me the minute he wakes.” He turned and left to find the High Bishop.
His shoulder burned and when he tried to move it to ease the pain he felt ropes tighten at his wrists.
“It’ll make it tighter if you struggle,” someone said and he opened his eyes and turned his head towards the speaker. His heart sank when he recognized the uniform of Duke Thorold’s personal militia.
There were two of them. One leaned in and whispered to the other before he left the room. The remaining guard looked on impassively as Kane tested his bonds again, wincing when he felt the rope bite into him. Ignoring the pain, he rolled onto his right side, sighing once the pressure was off his injured shoulder.
He was in Duke Thorold’s salon, he recognized it from the day he’d barged in on the Duke and rescued Brenna, back when he was still Captain of the Kingsguard. There would be no rescue for him, he knew. He only hoped that Beldyn had managed to escape. And that Thorold killed him quickly. Then the door opened and Thorold entered the room with High Bishop Valden. His death was not to be quick then, Kane thought setting his mouth in a grim line.
“If it isn’t the traitorous Captain Kane Rowse,” Thorold said as stopped by his side. “And now you’ve kidnapped the King.”
“Saved him you mean,” Kane said and then grunted in pain when Thorold kicked his injured shoulder.
“Kidnapped,” Thorold repeated. “He was being counseled by the leader of his church.”
“Ah yes. That would explain the blood and cuts all over his body,” Kane said and he was rewarded with another kick to his shoulder.
“All done to help him find clarity in the One-God,” Valden said. “The more pain a repentant feels the more clarity he can achieve.”
“As you will find out for yourself, Rowse,” Thorold said. He turned to Valden. “Please get ready High Bishop. And remember, I want the maximum amount of pain for as long as possible. And I want him awake for it all.”
Two guards dragged him down the hall to a small room and shoved him through the door. There was a single plain wooden table centered in the room and it was bare of all other furnishings and rugs. Kane was heaved onto the table and two more guards joined the first two. The ropes that bound him were untied and they stripped his clothing off him and forced him up onto the table. Spread eagled, each arm and leg was tied to a corner of the table. The guards then silently took up positions along the walls. Thorold, the High Bishop and Captain Barton filed in. Barton closed the door and stood with his back to it, staring straight ahead.
“Barton,” Kane said. “You must be relieved to see me here. My guess is that if it wasn’t me it would be you.”
Barton’s nostrils fared slightly and Kane laughed. Thorold walked over to Kane and punched his wound. Kane sucked in his breath and gritted his teeth against the pain. He felt his wound open and blood seep out.
“You will not speak,” Thorold said. “Gag him.” Barton stepped forward and shoved a rag into Kane’s mouth.
“Make sure he can breathe,” the High Bishop said. “We can take that out later when he needs to scream. Let’s begin.”
Kane looked up into the feverishly pleased face of the High Bishop and prayed to the old gods to let him die quickly.
I will not scream, I will not scream. Kane repeated the words over and over trying to concentrate on them and ignore the red clouds of pain. The pad of cloth under his head was slick, with sweat or blood he didn’t know. They’d put the pad there after he’d slammed his head onto the wooden table, hoping for death or unconsciousness. He sucked in his breath at a particularly painful jab. I will not scream I will not scream I will not scream. The words ran together as he repeated them furiously. Another jab and he opened his mouth and screamed.
Brenna jerked awake, the scream echoing in her head. She whimpered as she stared wide-eyed at the three men who stood over her.
“They’re hurting him,” she whispered. She sat up and cradled her knees. “They’re hurting him.”
“Brenna,” Pater said and sat down on the settee beside her. “Can you find him?”
She reached out through the old steel looking for Kane, sifting through each flicker of life she was aware of and although she could feel him, feel some of his pain, she couldn’t find him.
“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t know where he is.” She gasped as she felt another sharp jab. And closed her eyes and searched again. “He’s not near his sword,” she said. “And he lost his knife earlier. Why can I feel him but I can’t I find him?”
“Lass,” Pater said. He pulled her to him and stroked her hair. “Ye mustn’t wear yerself out. Or if ye want to keep searching at least take strength from one of us.”
“No.” Again she shook her head. “I won’t. I won’t put any of you in danger.” Not even to save Kane, she thought and another whimper escaped her throat. She would never forgive herself, never be able to look at Kane again, if she sacrificed someone else for him. But she would find him.
“I’m all right now,” she said. She eased herself out of Pater’s embrace and lay back down on the settee. “I’ll just rest now.” And she closed her eyes. But not to rest.
Prepared now, she waited for the pain. When it came she grabbed onto it and followed it. She felt herself flow out of her body and spiral away from Whitehaven across the mountains towards Kingsreach.
She pictured her map, the old map she’d stolen from the library so long ago, and let the points of light she saw, the Brothers and their old steel, fill out the terrain. She was over the mountains now - they were dark since few Brothers were in Comack. As she neared Kingsreach she saw more old steel - first individual weapons and then small knots of lights.
That cluster there, that would be the second wave of Gaskain’s army, on foot, a day away from the city still. And then she was over Gaskain’s main army - she recognized Jemma’s knife. She caressed the weapons as she went past and they burned brightly in her wake. She looked back - all of the old steel weapons glowed red hot. She looked down at herself and saw her own body shape itself out of light. Arms, legs, torso, head - all were made up of tendrils of light that reached up to her from every single weapon she’d touched on her way past. And she felt the power pour into her from the old steel, felt the blood of her ancestors join with her spirit. And Brenna wept - tears of joy and power and hope. Then she reached out to all the old steel all across Soule and gathered the power to her - the power and magic that had been forged into old steel so many years ago.
She turned her attention back to Kane’s pain. Now she saw where he was. And close to him there was one more old steel weapon, one that she hadn’t tapped into, one that resisted her because its bearer resisted her. She dove into it.
Thorold watched in glee as Kane Rowse arched his back in pain. Other than the one scream he’d not uttered another sound. But he would Thorold thought, he would. A strangled oath sounded behind him and he turned.
“Captain Barton …” his reprimand died on his lips as he saw Barton struggling to unsheath his sword. Once it was free he threw it to the floor and Thorold watched in horror as the blade turned black, a deep flat black that seemed to draw all the energy from the room into itself. Then the sword shattered and he was blinded by a light so strong, so bright, that his eyes watered even through his closed eyelids. When he opened his eyes his mouth dropped open.
“Hello grandfather.” He heard a voice, her voice in his head. “You have something of mine. I’ve come to get him back.” The light dimmed and he could make out a figure inside it. It walked over to Rowse, who was looking up at it with clear eyes and a wide smile.
“Be gone demon!” High Bishop Valden said. He threw a knife at the
figure enveloped by light and then he charged it holding an iron poker above his head, ready to strike.
The figure reached a hand out to the knife and it hung, suspended for a moment before it melted and dropped, sizzling to the floor. Valden brought the poker down onto the head of the figure, and then he let out a cry. Thorold was transfixed as the light crackled down the poker to the High Bishop. A tendril of light twisted up the man’s arm.
Valden fell to the floor clutching at his throat as the light encircled his neck. A glowing hand was held high and slowly, the fingers pinched together. The light faded from the High Bishop’s neck and arm and he rolled onto his side, dead. The figure of light turned back to Rowse and Thorold stepped back towards the door, shouldering Barton aside.
He was through the door in two steps, Barton right behind him and then he shuddered to a stop, his chest pushed in by a piercing pain. He looked down to see a dagger buried in his chest. And then his pretty little toy, the sweetling he’d planned to play with later, stepped out in front of him and sneered.
“The Brotherhood wins,” she said and spat on him as he slipped to the floor, his blood pumping out onto his fine hand woven rug.
He looked up to see her crouch low into a fighting stance, a knife dripping with blood – his blood - in her hand. She stared at Barton, who shrugged with open arms and stepped over him. He opened his mouth to order Barton back but only bubbles came out and then he was cold, so cold.
twenty
Brenna stirred - her body ached despite the soothing balm being spread over her.
“That hurts,” she said petulantly. She heard a big sigh from beside her.
“Well, at least she’s coherent,” a familiar voice said. “That’s a very good sign.”
Brenna opened her eyes to see a gray-haired figure sitting at her side. “Madelay!” she said and then she coughed. Brenna winced - her throat was raw and stung.
