“Petan fought me and lost,” Alric said.
“He struck from behind like a coward and was banished,” Kalia added.
Valdon laughed. “Perhaps when I finish this duel and win I’ll find him and we can form a band. Be better than driving a peddler’s wagon.”
“Why seek Petan?” Alric asked. “Join one of the rebel groups.”
“They’re fools. Strong leaders are needed. Petan is that. There are more of my kind than you realize. The bonding rules send many a good man away in disgrace.” He strode to the circle in the center of the commons.
Alric followed. “It’s time.”
“Luck,” Kalia called.
Alric joined his opponent in the circle where every year the youths of the area were tested. The Senior Judge stepped between them.
“The fight will continue until one of you is disarmed. No death duel. Fight for justice.” The older man stepped from the circle.
Alric raised his sword and met Valdon’s first stroke.
* * *
Kalia hoped Alric had taken her warning seriously. She moved to the edge of the circle where Alric faced Valdon. The clang of metal on metal reached her.
Valdon’s sword moved like a striking snake. Kalia nearly missed seeing his knife cut a slash along Alric’s chest. Her hand flew to her mouth. Shouts from the peddler and his companions mixed with groans from the other spectators. Kalia tensed. She turned and saw Hosar’s smirk.
The cut energized Alric. His sword flashed so fast the blade blurred. The singing sound, the flashing movements held Kalia spellbound. Before long Valdon’s shirt hung in tatters. Small cuts dotted his chest and arms.
After the initial wound Alric received no more. Kalia focused on the lines of fire on the men’s skin. She saw the smooth flow of Alric’s. Valdon’s patterns moved erratically. Alric sent Valdon’s blade flying from the circle. He caught the knife with the tip of his sword and it fell to the ground.
"Yield,” Alric shouted.
“Yielded.” Valdon held both hands in the air.
The Artisans bound his hands and those of Hosar. The peddler scowled. The Justicar trainees led the men from the commons.
The Senior and Junior Judges spoke to the drivers of the wagons. Each man or woman was awarded one of the cart beasts and a few coins as their wages. They were allowed to gather their belongings. The Artisans began an inventory of the contents of the wagons. All articles of value were stored in sacks.
Though fascinated by the process Kalia left the commons to find Alric. He sat at a table in the tavern. He reached for his shirt. She shook her head. “I need to check your wound.”
“Only a shallow cut. Bleeding stopped early during the bout.”
“Didn’t you listen when I told you about Robec’s wound? I’m speaking as your bondmate. I want to clean the cut.”
Alric grinned. “Get the aid kit.”
When she returned he sat with his back pressed against the edge of the table. She opened the kit and poured alk on a piece of linen. She ran the swatch over the wound and felt pleased when no bleeding began. She saw no redness of swelling around the area but the injury was too fresh to show any signs of a problem.
“Happy?” Alric asked.
“For now.” She wished she’d been able to clean the area before the lesion closed. “Keep an eye on the area for several days.” She touched the end of the wound with a finger and saw the lines coalesce in the area.
As she moved away she felt pulses of desire surge through her body. She closed the aid kit and hurried to return the small pack to the supplies. If the Swordmaster could see how Alric’s presence changed her lines the threats would become real. She couldn’t allow that to happen.
Kalia strapped the pack in place. She glanced toward the prisoners. The peddler sat with his head pressed against his bent knees.
Valdon beckoned. “Will you treat my wounds?”
“Why should I?”
“Your bondmate stopped the bleeding. Come closer and see if dressings are needed. I would welcome the touch of your soft hands.”
She stiffened. Though his hands were bound she feared he might attempt an escape. “If the bleeding has stopped there is no problem. I’ll send the herb woman to you.” She walked away.
He laughed. “Surprised me to learn your father permitted a bonding with another man. Petan was always his favorite and the man chosen for you.”
“Petan was never my choice. He dishonored his sword and knife to attack from behind. He wounded my brother and tried to plunge a sword into Alric’s back. He’s been banished.”
“Are you sure he’s gone. Petan is a natural leader. He draws men to his side. Women, too.”
Kalia strode toward the tavern. What did Valdon mean? Did he know about Petan’s manner of gaining entrance to the Hall? She’d seen and heard him lurking in a seldom used corridor. Had his banishment been a sham arranged by the Swordmaster to quiet the demands of the patrol leaders?
By the time she reached the commons, the Judges and Artisans had finished their tally of the peddler’s goods. Two of the cart beasts were loaded with goods to be taken along to repay those Hosar had cheated. Two more would bear the prisoners.
Kalia approached one of the trainees. “What will happen to the peddler and the defeated champion?”
“Hosar will be sent to the Isle. The other one may be shipped there, too. The four Guild leaders will pass sentence on those who break the rules thrice. Valdon has been twice caught aiding someone who breaks the laws of Investia.”
Kalia frowned. The Isle? She’d never heard of such a place.
Alric waved. “There’s food waiting in the tavern. After we eat we’ll return to the grove where we camped last night.”
She joined him and watched the amount of food he ate. She shook her head. “Do you have room for all that?”
“Don’t worry. Some of the dishes aren’t served in the Hall. The dulceberries don’t travel well.” He lifted one of the thumb nail size purple berries to her mouth. “Taste one.”
She took it between her lips. When she broke the skin the sweet honey flavor tinged with a spice she didn’t know produced a sigh of pleasure. She took a second. “They’re wonderful. I wonder if they would grow in the greenery.”
“Never thought of that.” He ate another. “When I was younger I used to sneak into the patch when they ripened and eat until I couldn’t move. So did my friends.”
Kalia sighed. Spending her entire life in Defenders Hall except for an occasional outing to ride Mist or field trips in training had isolated her from such adventures. “I wish I could have had friends and special times.”
“You’ll have them now.”
She stared at her hands. For a year if that long. The Swordmaster’s threats would steal any chance of escape.
She finished eating and helped Alric bind the prisoners in the saddle. She let him herd the pair to the camp while she led the pack animals.
* * *
In the morning as Kalia saddled Mist she glanced at her arms and gasped. The dark blotches had spread. How long before the lines reached the dark dried blood color of the Swordmaster’s? Would Alric see the taint and walk away or would he try to give her his essence the way her mother fed her bondmate’s lines of fire? Would Alric break their bond and escape to the rebels?
Chapter 10
The journey back to the Guild House took longer than the search for the peddler had taken. Each time they stopped at a farm or the small village, some new claim was made. Alric groaned. The Judges had the trainees question each claimant again. Practice, the Senior Judge had said and a way for him to evaluate the trainees.
At two farms the Artisans had caused the delay. Once they repaired a pump so it drew water from the ground. The second stop had found them adapting an antiquated plow into a more modern one.
Alric studied the prisoners. The peddler’s slumped shoulders and staring eyes shouted defeat. Valdon’s alertness bothered Alric. The banished Defender wa
tched every member of the party as though sizing his chances for an escape. Every mile closer to their destination seemed to increase the man’s watchfulness. Did he expect a rescue? Was he waiting for some band of outlaws to attack? Alric prodded Storm Cloud closer to the two prisoners.
“So Defender Alric, eager for our return?” Valdon asked.
“Yes.”
Valdon laughed. “Hard on a newly bonded pair to be sent on an assignment. The Swordmaster is a clever man. Heard how the patrol leaders forced your match with Kalia. Do you really think she will keep the bond? Once she heeds her father, you’ll be out.”
Alric ignored the remarks and rode to relieve the Junior Judge who rode point.
“Have you had her yet? Danced on her body?” Valdon’s voice rose. “I think not and I believe you will never succeed in seducing her. She was promised to Petan. Why would she want you?”
Though Alric felt tempted to slam his fist into Valdon’s mouth he continued his steady ride toward the head of the group. He refused to engage in a battle of words with a banished man. Still, he wondered why Kalia had avoided him since the day she’d cleaned his wound.
As if on cue, the area on his chest where Valdon’s knife had cut began to burn and itch.
That evening soon after they made camp Alric carried the fish traps to the stream and lowered them into the water. With luck there would be fish in the morning to be cooked for the nooning.
He tore off his vest and shirt. Scooping handfuls of cold water he splashed the liquid over the injury. The momentary relief brought a sigh. His eyes widened. Lines of fire avoided the area. What did it mean? He donned his shirt and slung the vest over his shoulder. The cracking of leaves and twigs caused him to turn around.
Kalia stood with her back to him. She appeared poised for flight. “Is something wrong?” he asked.
She turned. Tears cascaded over her cheeks. “Look at my lines.” She rubbed her hands over her arms. “Soon they’ll be as dark as the Swordmaster’s.”
Alric stepped closer. “There must be a way to stop the spread. Can your mother’s visits to your father halt the spread of his?”
She gazed into his eyes. “Would you have me drain you and keep you from using the lines when you duel?”
He clasped his hands behind his back to keep from reaching for her. “What would happen if the heart bond is mutual?”
Her voice caught on the edge of a sob. “Then my mother, sister and brother are doomed.”
“Not unless we exchange bracelets again and vow to last forever. That must be done publicly.”
She edged away. “He would know. He will make me tell. No matter what I do someone will die.” She bolted back to the camp.
Alric leaned against the rough bark of a towering spruce. There must be a way to help her. There were a few days of the journey remaining for him to devise a plan. Once they reached Defender’s Hall he must speak to Sando. Could he convince his patrol leader to challenge the Swordmaster?
When he reached the camp he sat with the others and ate stew. His appetite fled. Five forced bites were enough. Before retiring he checked the prisoners and returned to the fire for first watch. His head throbbed. Stings like sparks from the fire prickled along the edges of the healed knife wound. When the moon rose above the trees he woke the Junior Judge and a trainee and went to his blanket.
* * *
Angry clouds rolled across the sky. Dark blotches surrounded the sun. Alric put the fish he’d caught in the traps and cooked on pieces of flat bread for the nooning. They would have to eat as they rode which meant freeing the prisoners’ hands.
“Finish quickly.” He stiffed the food in several leather pouches. “We’ll need to move fast if we want to find shelter before the storm hits. There is a farm five or six hours ahead where we can shelter tonight.” He passed the food to the others and kept the prisoner’s provisions on his bihorn.
Long before they reached the farm, the downpour began. Alric urged his companions to push their steeds to the limit. Thunder rolled across the sky but the flashes of lightning flared in the distance. Water saturated his vest and shirt. Finally, they clattered across the farmyard and headed to the barn. The Senior Judge, Kalia and the female trainee halted at the house and dashed to the door. Alric herded their mounts along with the pack beasts to the barn.
He slid from his steed, checked the prisoners and allowed them to change into dry clothes before re-binding their hands. After tending to the steeds and unloading the pack beasts he found time to change. The area around the wound was swollen and some of the tissue had turned dark. Once he reached the Hall he needed to seek the Healers.
He climbed to the loft to arrange sleeping space. The others who had taken shelter in the barn joined him.
The Senior Judge and two young men arrived carrying kettles of thick soup and kafa. Alric took travel bread, cheese and honey from the pack. The Judge sat beside Alric. “The women will spend the night in the house.”
Alric nodded. He turned to the farmer’s sons. “Thank you for the hot meal.” He handed them a copper coin. “Tell your parents this can be redeemed at the Hall.”
After seeing the prisoners fed Alric forced himself to eat. He drank two mugs of kafa hoping the beverage would keep him awake until his watch ended.
When he finally reached his blankets he hovered between heat and chills. Nightmares of his enemies and fights he’d won and lost woke him all too often.
* * *
As they set out the next day he noticed Valdon’s smile. Did the failed Defender know what his single cut had done? With grim determination Alric remained in the saddle. Finally the walls of the Guild House appeared.
They entered the Justicar’s gate. Alric remained mounted when the others dismounted. The prisoners walked with the Judges and the trainees. Alric turned his bihorn into the tunnel to Artisans Hall. There all but the supply beasts followed the two men.
He and Kalia continued through the tunnel. As they passed Healers Hall he considered stopping but he needed to care for Storm Cloud. When they emerged from the tunnel they rode to the stable.
Kalia dismounted. “Are you coming? After we tend to our steeds, don’t you have to take your record book to the Swordmaster? Then we’ll have enough time to reach the refectory for the evening meal.”
“I’m coming.” Alric slid his leg over the saddle. His feet hit the ground and the rest of him followed.
* * *
Kalia turned. Her eyes widened. “Alric.” She knelt beside him. His only response was a moan. She didn’t need to touch his skin to feel the radiating heat. His lines of fire had paled. Those on her hands pulled toward him.
“No.” She wouldn’t drain his vitality. “Help! Someone help.”
One of the stablemen dashed into the open. “Who did this?”
“He wasn’t hurt. He has a fever. Can you take care of the steeds?”
A trainee ran across the yard. Kalia waved to him. “Run to the Healers. Tell them there’s a man down. Burning with fever. Just returned from an assignment. Dueled. Small slash. May be infected.”
The young man ran into the tunnel.
Kalia rose and paced around Alric’s body. Time dragged. She peered toward the tunnel opening. The urge to touch him warred with the fear that doing so would harm him. A pair of young men in Healer blue emerged. Relief nearly brought her to her knees.
Once Alric was on the litter she followed the men to Healers Hall. A Senior Medico waited. “Did he open the wound on his back?”
Kalia drew a deep breath. “Two weeks ago he fought a duel and received a shallow knife cut. His opponent is the same one who injured Robec a dozen or more years ago. My brother had the same reaction to the slash. This is my fault. I should have insisted on cleaning the area even though the blood flow had stopped and clotting had occurred.”
A pair of trainees removed Alric’s vest and shirt. When Kalia saw the dark edges around the wound and the angry swelling her hand flew to her mouth.
&nbs
p; The Medico shook his head. “And you didn’t suspect how ill he was.”
“He didn’t complain.”
“Defenders.” The dark-haired man snapped orders. “He’s dangerously ill.” He sent the trainees for instruments and medicines. He washed his hands with soap and water, then soaked them in a basin of alk.
The pungent aroma of the clear liquid made Kalia cough. Her eyes widened when the Medico took a knife from the basin and opened the skin along the slash.
Yellow-green exudates oozed from the wound. The trainees used pieces of alk soaked cloth to clean the area.
Two trainees held Alric’s arms and two held his legs. The Medico poured a stream of alk on the wound. Alric bellowed and bucked with his body nearly falling from the table. In an instant the seizure stopped. The healer spread a blue ointment on a piece of cloth and placed it on the open wound.
After the shout and near convulsion Alric remained completely still. A chill rolled over Kalia’s skin. What would she do if he didn’t recover? The idea made her rub her arms to warm herself. The Senior Medico stepped back to allow the trainees to dress the wound. “Take him to a private room. A cooking bath now and every three hours until the fever is lowered.” He turned to Kalia. “The next three days are vital to his recovery. You will be permitted to remain in his room.”
Kalia looked up. “I will stay but I must take the report book to the Swordmaster and speak to Alric’s patrol master.”
“Do that and be sure to return. Your presence will help.”
Kalia nodded. “I’ll return as soon as I can.”
With haste she trotted through the tunnel and into the stable. She paused to feed Mist and Storm Cloud a few apelons before carrying two packs to Alric’s suite. She found her belongings had arrived. Though she wanted a long and leisurely soak in the baths, she washed in the necessary and changed. With Alric’s report book in hand she left the room.
As she stepped into the courtyard a trainee shouted. “Defender Kalia, you are to report to the Swordmaster.”
Lines of Fire (The Guild House - Defenders Hall) Page 11
