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Chapter Eight
“’Tis bitter cold, my lady. You should be wearing gloves.” Antano’s voice startled me out of a half-slumber. My horse snorted at my abrupt movement.
“I have none.” My eyes watered. The wind bit at my fingers, the parts I could still feel. I glanced to check they still held the reins. I feared I would never be able to straighten my fingers again. Should I try, they might not clasp the leather leads again.
Antano grunted. “Fine way to treat his wife.”
“Pardon?” I glanced around, encountering the setting sun in all of its blinding golden glory through a break of trees. It took me a few moments of careful blinking before I could see again. By then Antano moved away.
I shifted slightly in the saddle in an attempt to ease the sharp ache in my lower back. I gasped at a flare of pain and dared not move again. Thankfully, my mount docilely plodded on, following the soldiers’ horses before it.
My respect for the men around me grew as the morning waned. Until their appearance in our village, travel filled most of their days. Hour upon hour with a horse between their knees, backs aching, armor chaffing, they rode in all weather. Only a bit over a day on the trail and I ached for home. I craved the luxury of sitting on something that didn’t move.
The pair of men to my left drew closer as the cleared area around the trail narrowed.
“I got a spirited woman,” the darker of the two commented.
His companion whistled appreciatively.
“No, not that kind of spirited. She threatened me with a hot poker should I attempt to touch her, ever.”
“At least she shows life.” The blond lowered his voice. “Mine doesn’t even look me in the face. She mumbles her words and stutters horribly. If I so much as sneeze, she turns white and scurries off. After the third time, I tracked her down behind the forge. Apparently her father was the village blacksmith before–”
His voice whipped away on the wind. The darker one nodded in understanding. They stared before their horses, lost in memories of shared horror.
The dark one shook off his thoughts. “We have our work set before for us.”
“No more than Irvaine.”
“Did you see the anger in her eyes? Now that is a woman of spirit.”
“I don’t envy him the task of taming that fire.”
I focused back on my stinging hands as they glanced my way.
They fell into discussing the advantages of the long bow over the crossbow. I lost interest.
“I have been accused of neglect.” Irvaine’s deep voice interrupted my thoughts as his knee brushed mine. “Show me your hands, Brielle.”
“They will survive. I have suffered worse.” True, but not for such a length of time.
“Brielle!” The harsh tone of his exclamation brought up my pride.
“It isn’t that bad.”
His hard glare clearly indicated his disbelief. He drew off his left glove with his teeth while reaching for my reins. After pulling my horse to a standstill, he tugged off his other glove.
“Give them here.”
I attempted to release the leads. My fingers uncurled, but fire spread from the tips to the knuckles. Tears escaped my eyes, but I bit my lip to hold back the cry that clogged my throat.
“Why didn’t you say something?” Claiming my right hand, he enclosed it in his warm palms. “Give me the other one too.”
I obeyed.
“Have I been so boorish that you feared asking?”
“No.”
“Then why?” His dark gaze raked my face, seeking—no, demanding—an answer. “I told you I would care for you.” He swore. “Didn’t you have gloves yesterday?”
“No. My last pair became useless last fall. I hadn’t replaced them yet.”
The day before had been mild. I saw no need to point out the inadequacies of my gear. Today, however, had passed differently. Since morning the temperature dropped steadily as the wind grew stronger. Our breath grew misty in the air and the stream we crossed at midday boasted ice along its edges.
“Brielle, I can’t read your thoughts. I need you to speak up when you need something. Your hands are freezing. Much longer and you would risk losing fingers.” He rubbed them. Burning pain flooded through my hands.
I cried out. I couldn’t stop the sound. I bit down hard on my lip to prevent another protest.
“I will stop rubbing them.” He pressed them between his palms instead. Bringing our clasped fingers to his mouth, he breathed on them. “From now on you are using my gloves.”
“But what about your hands? You need protection as well.”
“I will seek out a spare pair.”
In his silence, I realized three men had stopped with us. Lingering at a discreet distance, they conversed among themselves. Two of them were my previous companions. I caught the blond one’s gaze. He dipped his head.
“What must I do to earn your trust, Brielle?” The hurt in the tone of Irvaine’s voice irritated my conscience. His strong fingers worked warmth into my frozen ones.
“You were preoccupied.”
A lame excuse, but it remained the truth. He spent the travel time with many of his men, listening and conferring. Interrupting him then required drawing attention; something I loathed doing, especially in the company of so many strangers. Besides, the business at hand seemed so much more important than a bit of discomfort on my part.
I lifted my eyes to find him studying my face.
“You are more important to me than my men, Brielle. I carry a duty to them, but I did not swear my hands to their comfort and my shoulders to their provision as I did to you. You cannot convince me that this is comfortable.” He squeezed my hand gently. Exquisite heat emanated from his rough skin, easing the cold’s hold on my fingers.
Shame burned my cheeks. I lowered my face to hide the moisture in my eyes.
“Now don’t hide. I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He brushed away an old tear with the back of his fingers. The cracked skin of his knuckles caught at my cheek. “I am just disappointed you didn’t come to me. Next time, ask. Promise me you will ask.”
I nodded without meeting his dark eyes.
“I mean it, Brielle.”
Before I could nod again, a male voice tore the winter stillness. “Traveler riding fast.”
Irvaine dropped my hands and reached for his sword. The three men arrayed themselves, weapons drawn, between us and the road.
“Stay behind me.” Irvaine maneuvered his mount between me and the approaching rider. “If this goes poorly, ride for the rest of the company.”
My knife was strapped to my thigh. Despite the temptation to reach for it, I didn’t. My hands wouldn’t be able to grip it effectively. Instead, I wound the reins around my hands and watched the road.
The pounding of hooves on frozen ground filled the unnatural silence. Fear thundered in my ears as each breath came fast and shallow.
“He wears our colors.”
“It is Kuylan.”
The horse came to a clumsy halt several feet beyond our gathering. The soldier listed dangerously in his saddle as he turned to greet us. Face white, he pressed his free hand to his side as though he had a cramp.
“We have been betrayed, my lord.” He coughed, wincing in pain with each spasm. “Three hundred soldiers arrived at dawn.”
“Wisenvale?” Irvaine asked.
Kuylan swallowed with great care. Sweat beaded on his brow. Crimson oozed between his fingers.
I laid a hand on Irvaine’s arm. “He is bleeding, my lord.”
“Fetch Muirayven,” Irvaine ordered. The blond man set off at a gallop. “Let us get him down.”
Irvaine and the dark-haired soldier lifted the messenger from his horse while the third man held his horse. I managed to dismount, despite my aching thighs. I pulled a clean tunic from my saddlebag. They eased Kuylan to the grass beside the path. I pushed past Irvaine’s shoulder as he backed away. My cold, clumsy finge
rs managed to unbuckle Kuylan’s pierced leather breastplate on the first try. But they fumbled over the lacings of his padded jerkin.
“Here, let me.” Irvaine pushed my hands aside so he could cut the lacings.
I peeled back the stiff, quilted cloth to reveal the wound. After wrapping my clean tunic around my right hand, I pulled the skin together with my left before applying pressure. His blood soaked the cloth with alarming swiftness.
“What did this?” I asked.
“Arrow, my lady.”
“Come, Kuy, surely you were not the only man they could send.” Irvaine knelt at my side, offering a small measure of shelter from the biting wind.
“Nay, my lord, I volunteered and rode off before they knew. There were many worse than I. Someone needed to catch you before you reached the gates of Kyrenton.”
“Why?” My mouth spoke before I thought.
“When the invaders discovered you were not among our number, Lord Wisten hinted someone in Kyrenton would deal with you. He named no names and perhaps spoke more than he should have. The foreign baron seemed ill pleased with his loose tongue.”
“Is that what you meant when you said we had been betrayed?”
“Nay. Brevand betrayed us. While we faced the main company in the fields before the village, he led the others into the village and gathered our women.”
“Loren.” My breath caught in my chest. Anger rose despite my inability to breathe.
Kuylan grunted. “Aye, Quaren’s wife as well as the rest. They threatened action against them should we not withdraw.” He coughed. “Not so hard, my lady.”
I eased the pressure slightly. He laid his head back and closed his eyes. The pallor of his face worried me.
Nudging Irvaine’s shoulder with mine to catch his attention, I nodded toward Kuylan. “Keep him talking.”
He nodded. “Did we outnumber them?”
“Barely. We maintained the upper hand until Brevand marched out of the village. He held Quaren’s wife before him with a knife against her throat and ordered we retreat.” He coughed again. “My lady, not so hard.” He lifted his hand to move mine away.
Irvaine intercepted the movement. “She is preventing you from bleeding out. Focus on your tale. I need to know every detail. How did Quaren take the threat to his wife?”
“Poorly, sir. We retreated though he gave no order and rode after you. He didn’t wish to leave her with the traitor. Those cowards sped us on our way with a volley of arrows. I gained this dragging at Quaren’s reins.” He waved weakly toward my hands.
The thunder of approaching horses brought all of our attention to the trail toward Kyrenton. Irvaine stood to greet them. Five men burst upon us.
The foremost rider, a thin young man with wild yellow hair, dismounted before his steed stopped. His feet hit the ground at a run as he clutched a satchel to his side. “Where is he?”
“Here.” Irvaine pointed to me and strode on to meet Antano and the other men who accompanied the healer.
The healer wasted no time assessing the situation. “Arrow to the gut,” he muttered as he lifted away my hands and ruined tunic. “You are a fool, Kuy. That ride might have been your last.” He glanced at me. “My lady, if I might?”
I pivoted back onto my heels to give him room. Surveying my blood stained hands in dismay, I tried to ignore the panic constricting my chest. Loren, Taltana, and the rest of my village were at the mercy of a lawless robber baron, my cousin, and Brevand, not to mention their army. I closed my eyes against the images, but they pressed all the harder.
A hand closed on my shoulder. “Come, let me clean you up.” Irvaine helped me to my feet.
Sudden exhaustion pulled at my bones. The wild emotional ride of the past few days pressed against my temples. I wanted to do nothing more than find a warm quiet place and sleep. Perhaps if I slept long enough, the world would right itself again.
I closed my eyes as Irvaine doused my hands in water and rubbed them briskly with a rough cotton cloth. When he finished, the skin remained red, but no longer from blood.
“We will go and rescue them.” I searched his face. I needed hope.
“I won’t abandon them.” He met my gaze. “But we won’t return yet. We are closely matched in number. The baron will send for reinforcements from across the river. We must do likewise.”
“From Kyrenton?”
“And possibly beyond. It depends upon what we find.”
But Loren…. I forced myself to breathe. Images of her resisting Orwin’s caress turned my stomach. I remembered well the leer in his gaze last time he passed through the village. Kurios, please protect her. Protect them all.
A gentle touch to my cheek brought my thoughts back to the present. Irvaine lifted my chin so I gazed up into his dark eyes. I couldn’t tell if they were black or brown. Even in the bright light of the midday sun, I couldn’t be certain of their color, only of the sorrow in them.
“If I had the slightest chance of victory, I would leave now to challenge Orwin and his allies. I will do everything in my power to reclaim Wisenvale and its women.”
“Before….” I couldn’t put it into words. To do so would make it reality.
“I can’t promise that.” Pain etched creases about his eyes.
Though my heart screamed at the injustice of it all, I held my tongue.
“Come, we need to move forward.”
I followed him numbly to our horses.
Hours later after nightfall, we made camp. No one settled down for sleep, though. A watchful restlessness roiled beneath the calm activities of the men. Irvaine moved among the soldiers, speaking quietly with the healer, consulting with Antano, and arguing with Jarvin.
Dinner was comprised of roasted rabbit and waybread. Jarvin’s seasoning did a great deal to make the stringy meat and stale loaf palatable. I ate alone. Irvaine didn’t join me until I was picking the last of the meat from the bones.
“Morale is poor.” He set his wooden bowl full of meat and waybread on the cloak before lowering himself down next to me. “I don’t know whether to be encouraged that the men took to their wives so quickly or discouraged that I can’t improve the situation more than I have.”
“We reach Kyrenton tomorrow,” I reminded him.
“Aye. Should Kurios will it, we will find provision enough to turn and reclaim what was taken.” He moved his food about without eating. “Until then, we wait.” He dropped his bowl and rubbed his forehead. “I am not hungry. I think I shall bed down.” He rose to his feet and offered me a hand up. “We both need our rest.”
We settled in under the tent. For the first time I was thankful for his presence at my back. His body heat kept the growing cold from overwhelming me.
~~~~~
The defeated appeared at dawn as we gathered up our gear for the day’s travel. They arrived in a cloud of dust white with sleepy sunlight. The healer plowed into the fray seeking wounded.
The leader rode straight to Irvaine. Not bothering to dismount, he inclined his head. “My lord, Quaren has deserted.”
“What?”
“After sending Kuylan ahead, he ordered us to find you. He took only a water skin and three day’s rations. Last we saw him, he was moving south.”
“Wise man,” Irvaine muttered. “He intends to intercept the supply caravan. Someone needed to do it. I wouldn’t have chosen Quaren to accomplish it, but he most likely needs a task to occupy his mind.”
“My lord?”
“Nothing of consequence, Ryon. You have been granted a temporary promotion until Quaren returns. Go see to your men.”
Ryon bit down on a protest and saluted with two fingers to his left brow. He then prodded his horse back to his company.
Irvaine resumed his interrupted task, lifting me onto my horse.
“You don’t consider Quaren’s action desertion, do you?”
“Going up.” He hoisted me up into the saddle.
I settled myself. He handed me the reins.
Once
mounted himself, he guided his horse to my side.
“No, Brielle, I don’t consider Quaren a deserter. He saw to it that his men were safe. Once accomplishing his duty, he turned his energy to his more important duty of protecting his daughter and our resources. We don’t want our rations and loved ones riding straight into the enemy’s waiting arms. I hope he reaches them in time.” The distant focus of his gaze planted a revelation in my mind.
“You have someone in that caravan too.” My tone accused more than I intended. His back tightened and his shoulders came up. He didn’t meet my gaze.
The horn signaling for us to move on tore through the tension. In the following cacophony of shouts and horses’ hooves, snorts, and whinnies, I almost didn’t hear his response.
“My son.”
My world shifted.
“I will answer your questions.” He studied my face. Wariness tightened his shoulders as though he expected me to be angry.
I was, but not a large measure. Despite my disquiet, my brain proceeded to process everything. It made sense for him to not tell me of his son at first. Still so much about him remained a mystery to be discovered. I still felt awkward about the idea of being his wife. Motherhood carried a whole new set of responsibilities. The most pressing thought, though, was for the woman who gave him the child. “What was she like?”
“My wife?” His focus shifted inward. “She was vibrant.”
I noted the lack of emotion in his voice. My relief at the boy’s legitimate origins quickly transitioned into shame. I was a fool to think Irvaine immoral enough to produce otherwise. If there was one thing I had learned about my husband, he valued the marriage bed.
“How old is the boy?”
“Five summers. She succumbed to fever shortly after giving him life.” His features aged at the memory.
That made the boy a year older than Loren’s step-daughter. Just placing his age in relation to her made him more tangible. Tempted to visualize him, I resisted. Regardless of how I viewed his father, I wanted to see him for himself. Others always judged me by my connections. I was the former lord’s daughter, Orwin’s cousin, the remnant of a great family left among the ashes of once vibrant traditions and power. Now I was Lord Irvaine’s wife…a mother. Simply the word made my heart swell in anticipation and fear. Let me guide with wisdom as my mother before me.
Duty: a novel of Rhynan Page 5
