Lines of Fire (The Guild House - Defenders Hall)

by Walters, Janet Lane;

  As Alric leaped from his bihorn he drew his sword and knife. He raced toward the three. He slashed the arm of one of the men holding the woman still. The man yelled and grabbed his companion. The pair fled down the road. A pair of bihorns ran after them.

  Alric turned to face the kneeling man. He leaped to his feet and pulled a sword free.

  “Valdon.” The name erupted in an angry roar. This man had nearly caused Alric’s death. This time there would be no holding back for this was no duel, but a fight for justice. Alric whirled his sword and cut Valdon’s shirt and marked his chest a half dozen times. The banished man backed away. Alric followed wielding his sword. He aimed for Valdon’s knife hand and with a quick slice severed the hand from the wrist. Blood fountained. Valdon screamed and fell.

  As Alric gulped deep breaths he heard the woman’s laughter again. He stared. “Ilna, will you be next?”

  “Not a chance. Take him.”

  Alric thought he heard Kalia scream. Impossible. He’d left her at their camp.

  He whirled and evaded the whistling sword aimed at his back. “Petan.” As Kalia had predicted this was an ambush. For a few moments they exchanged a flurry of blows. Alric moved aside to avoid a vicious thrust, caught his opponent’s sword and missed seeing the hilt of a knife aimed at his head. He stumbled over Valdon’s body and fell.

  Alric struggled to roll away and got to his feet, but the body impeded him. His vision blurred. Something dark moved toward his head. A second blow connected. He fought descending darkness.

  A trap. Kalia had been right. He had galloped to the rescue. Petan had won this time and maybe for all time. Aloud or in his thoughts the words rang.

  * * *

  Kalia watched Alric gallop away. All her instincts cried trap. Why hadn’t he waited for her? Two stood a better chance than one, no matter how skilled he was with sword and knife.

  While her thoughts churned, she grabbed the lead rope of the pack beast before the animal followed Storm Cloud. She tied the rope to a tree, saddled Mist and mounted.

  How far ahead was her bondmate? As she sent Mist into a gallop the faint cries for help grew louder. What would she do when she reached the scene? Who knew how many outlaws they would face?

  Thoughts of fighting roiled her gut. She wasn’t a coward. Not long ago, she had faced Ilna in the circle. Meeting the outlaws wasn’t like a duel in the salle. There were no rules and she would face desperate men.

  Mist continued forward. Around a bend, down a straight, another bend, always pushing her steed for speed. As she neared the third bend, the scream stopped. How much longer before she reached the scene? Had Alric saved the woman or had she died?

  Ahead, she saw Alric fighting a dark-haired man. Two others fled. A shout of encouragement to the man Alric fought startled Kalia. What was Ilna doing here?

  Abruptly the fight ended in a spurt of blood. Alric’s foe’s hand flew from his body. He collapsed.

  “Take him,” Ilna shouted.

  “Alric, beware!” Had he heard her? Had the warning distracted him?

  He wheeled and the sword Petan swung missed. For a short time they thrust and parried. Then Alric caught his opponent’s sword and pushed it away.

  “No,” Kalia cried as the knife hit Alric’s head and he stumbled over the bodies and fell.

  Kalia slid from the saddle and ran to him. Petan aimed a booted foot and connected with Alric’s head. Kalia reached her bondmate and lifted his head to her lap. The bleeding stopped. She touched his chest and felt the slow steady beat of his heart. She looked up to see Petan ready to plunge his sword into Alric’s chest.

  “Do it. Do it,” Ilna chanted. “Kill him. Kill the man who was responsible for my banishment.”

  Kalia stared at Petan. “You killed him,” she screamed. “What am I going to do? How can I live when he’s dead?” She prayed Petan couldn’t read the lines and would believe her frantic calls. Tears rolled down her face.

  Petan lowered his sword. His laughter sent chills over her skin. “If anyone would know he’s dead, you’re the one. I know about your ability to read the lines. You should have rejected him and joined me.” He glared. “You are mine.”

  Ilna ran to them and grabbed Petan’s arm. “Kill her too. Kill her for me.”

  “Not a chance.” He shook free and backhanded Ilna and set her flying to the ground. “Not a chance. She’s my ticket back into the Hall. She’s my way to prove my worthiness to the one who judges me.”

  Kalia lowered her gaze. “Worthy to whom?” She hadn’t meant to speak aloud.

  Petan grinned. “A powerful being you’ll meet in time.”

  "What will you gain by returning me to the Hall?”

  “Leadership of the Defenders.” He reached for Ilna and grabbed her hair. “Though this git gifted Robec, he hasn’t the inner strength to rule. The one I follow will reward me for helping him gain control of the Defenders.”

  Kalia frowned. What did he mean?

  Petan released Ilna and grasped Kalia’s arm. “Get up. You’re coming with me.”

  She slid Alric’s head from her lap. A puff of breath and a low moan emerged. “Why do you want me?” She raised her voice to cover Alric’s sounds.

  Ilna pounded Petan’s back. “She can’t have you. I’ll be the new Swordmaster’s bondmate.”

  He laughed. “I doubt Kalia will share.”

  Kalia stepped away from Alric and prayed he remain silent. She dare not let her captor know her bondmate lived. Regret rocked her thoughts. The intention of their assignment had been clear. Locate the hiding place of the outlaws and report what they found. At the moment failure loomed. Alric could turn defeat into victory but not now. He was in no condition to fight.

  Petan pulled her away from the bodies. He tied her hands and feet before flinging her into the bihorn in front of the saddle. He mounted behind her.

  “Where are you going?” Ilna asked.

  “To the gathering place to see if those two fools who ran have arrived. If you’re coming, I’m sure one of them will appreciate your talents.”

  Ilna grabbed the stirrup. “Help me up. I’ll ride with you.”

  He kicked her away. “Too much weight. Take one of the other bihorns.”

  “Not his.”

  Storm Cloud stood over Alric’s body. Did the animal know his master lived? Would that alert Petan? Kalia swallowed a sob. Ilna grasped Mist’s reins and quickly mounted. The bihorn moved in a restless dance.

  Kalia grimaced. Unless the other woman was an expert rider, Mist would throw her.

  Petan chuckled. “She won’t be with us for long. I know how your bihorn dislikes strangers.”

  Though she wanted to speak, her position kept her from drawing enough breath to force words out. Petan’s bihorn moved forward. Kalia closed her eyes. She had to escape, but how?

  Petan stroked Kalia’s back. “You are mine. Your father will be pleased when he learns I have you and Alric is dead. The Swordmaster plans to see me as Robec’s Right Hand. Won’t happen. Your father’s plans aren’t mine or the one guiding me. Before long I’ll challenge your father. The Swordmaster will die. The patrols will be forced to accept me and the Defenders will rule the Guilds and Investia.”

  A time of chaos faced them, Kalia thought. The patrols, the other Guilds, the people would suffer should his plans come to pass. Petan would face challenges. Hopefully, he would lose.

  Would Alric regain consciousness before they were too far from here so he could give chase? He wasn’t ready for a fight. She wanted to cry. For now she must tolerate Petan until she found a way to escape.

  Mist raced past. Ilna screamed. The bihorn passed close enough to brush against Kalia.

  “Watch it,” Petan shouted.

  Mist reared, came down and bucked. Ilna flew from the saddle and landed on the ground. Petan’s steed shied. Kalia slid to the ground. She rolled to keep from being trampled.

  Petan rode his steed away from the fallen and vaulted to the ground. He ran t
o Ilna and kicked her abdomen, chest and head. “Stupid git.”

  As blow after blow landed Ilna screamed. Kalia stared at the scene. She expected Ilna’s lines of fire to vanish but the oddly pale lines remained.

  The ebony shade of Petan’s made Kalia shudder. What would happen if those lines solidified? As he approached her, she wanted to roll away but couldn’t. Would she be his next victim?

  He lifted her and tossed her on the bihorn. “She won’t bother you again.”

  “Is she dead?”

  “Who cares?” He prodded his steed into a walk. A short distance from Ilna’s body the bihorn entered the forest.

  Tears trickled over Kalia’s face. Alric, she cried silently. Be all right. Come for me.

  Chapter 14

  Bright light shone in Alric’s eyes. The glow vanished to return again. With caution he opened his lids and stared at clouds skimming across the sun. Past midday. Why was he lying on the road? He moved his hands across a body. Who was there? What had happened? He tried to rise. His head throbbed with the beat of a dozen large drums. Keeping his eyes closed he eased into a sitting position.

  With care he slitted his eyes open and saw the aftermath of a fight. Near the trees he saw a bihorn grazing. Was that where he’d spent the night? Why had he slept so late? A face crystallized among the fragments of memory. Kalia. The shards of recollection began to spin in random patterns like the bits of glass in the viewing tubes children loved. With a hand he touched his head and found two places where blood crusted.

  As he got to his knees he couldn’t suppress a groan. Slowly he got to his feet and remained unmoving while the drumbeat became staccato and the wavering scenery slid into place. He stepped away from the bodies to reach the shade beneath a maple tree before turning to study the bodies in hopes his memories would knit.

  Valdon. A young woman. Dead. His stomach lurched. He spewed the contents on the ground.

  More memories fused. The girl, an untrained Defender had died before she reached the Hall. The cries for help. The ride. The witnessed rape and the fight. Two men in flight. Ilna’s laughter and demands. Alric stared at the scene. Alone now except for the dead.

  Petan’s attack. Kalia had been right. Where was she? His thoughts drifted. The camp. He’d told her to remain there. Before searching for the outlaw’s camp he needed to return for her.

  He whistled for Storm Cloud. The bihorn arrived at his side. Alric searched the road and found his knife and sword. He used Valdon’s shirt to clean some of the clotted blood from the blades. An urgency to return to the camp for his bondmate caused the drums in his head to slow their beat.

  He climbed into the saddle and reached for his flask to slake his thirst. Empty. Kalia. He needed to find her. Though his head pounded and the bitter taste of vomit lingered, he pushed his steed into a gallop and retraced his ride to where he’d left her.

  When the large oak came into view, a final shard fitted into pace. Kalia had followed him, had cried a warning and had stopped the bleeding from his head wound and more.

  Her scream echoed through him. “You killed him. What am I going to do?”

  But he wasn’t dead and she hadn’t been at the place where he’d awakened. He groaned. Petan had her. Though Alric wanted to turn and pursue the fleeing pair, they had been gone for hours. Caution was needed. Surely they had reached Petan’s camp. He had to follow and rescue her. Then they would return to the Hall and report.

  What about their supplies and the pack beast? He pushed Storm Cloud for the final distance to the camp. He spotted the shaggy animal. Most of the supplies remained on the ground.

  He knelt at the spring and gulped handfuls of water. He splashed his face and cared for his weapons. Selecting two sacks he gathered clothes for them both and filled the pack. The second, he filled with food, utensils and two pans. After rolling Kalia’s blanket he fastened the packs to the saddle. He filled two flasks with water and mounted his bihorn.

  While returning to where he had fought and lost to begin the search for the track of the bihorn with the notched shoe, he munched on trail bread and cheese. As long as daylight remained he believed he could discover where Petan had left the road. Alric prayed the banished Defender hadn’t harmed Kalia.

  He passed the bodies. Though they deserved a burial he couldn’t stop to dig a grave. Around a bend in the road he saw a crumpled body. His heart thundered. As he drew closer he saw the color of the woman’s hair. Not Kalia. Relief swamped him. Blood rushed from his head.

  As he rode past he heard a faint cry. He dismounted and peered around Storm Cloud searching the trees along the sides of the road searching for another ambush. Seeing no one, he went to the body.

  “Ilna.” He knelt and studied her flickering lines of fire. Life lingered but soon would vanish. Both of her eyes were blackened. Blood oozed from her nose and her mouth. He placed a finger at her throat and felt a stuttering pulse. “What happened?”

  “You’re dead.” Her voice barely rose above a whisper.

  “I’m not. Who did this?” Though he knew, he needed confirmation.

  “Petan. He hit.”

  Alric drew a deep breath. “Did he beat you?”

  “Yes. Bihorn threw. Kalia.”

  “Where is Petan? Where is Kalia?”

  “He took.”

  Alric drew a shuddering breath. He dare not let the image of Kalia battered like Ilna stir the cauldron of his emotions. “Where?”

  “Hut. Forest. Tonight. Stay. Go.”

  “Go where?”

  “Away.” She raised a hand and pointed.

  Alric pushed hair from her face. “Can I help you?”

  “Dying. Bleed inside.”

  “Do you need water?”

  Laughter more like a cackle spilled from her mouth. “Dead. You. He thinks.” She gasped for air.

  Alric watched the lines of fire vanish from her skin. He rose and whistled for Storm Cloud. The bihorn brayed. Alric hurried toward the sound and found not only his steed but Mist. After gathering the reins of both he walked along the road in the direction Ilna had indicated and searched the edge for the notched shoe. When he found the place where Petan had entered the forest, Alric stopped to decide what to do.

  Though he could ride the bihorn and follow the trail the noise would alert anyone listening. He led the steeds beyond the place where Petan had entered the forest and found a clearing with grass and water. According to the map there was a crossroads ahead with an alternate approach to the Hall. He fastened Mist’s reins to Storm Cloud’s saddle.

  After drinking from the spring and eating bread and cheese he patted his bihorn. “When I need you, I’ll whistle.”

  He jogged back to the place where’d he’d seen the tracks made by the notched shoe. As he started along the narrow path he thought about Kalia. His lines of fire flowed to the tips of his fingers and pointed in the direction she had taken.

  * * *

  The jouncing walk of the bihorn coupled with enervating fear send Kalia wandering in a fugue state. The bihorn’s halt jolted her into the present. Where were they? How long had they traveled? The canopy of leaves above the trail allowed little spots of light to dapple the ground.

  Petan dismounted. She watched him walk to a spring and stoop to drink. Her dry throat prevented her from asking him to loosen her bonds and allow her to walk. Her arms felt numb and so did her legs. When he took a bite of something taken from his pack, pangs of hunger attacked.

  Kalia fought to control the fury rolling like a forest fire through her body. The Swordmaster had planned to bind her to Petan. Did the older man understand the one he’d chosen for his daughter had plans crafted by some mysterious person Petan named as his master.

  Escape. There had to be a way. Petan’s ruthlessness had always frightened her. Beneath her anger embers of fear threatened to flare and burn all her thoughts away. Petan would do anything to bring his plans to fruition.

  He approached the bihorn and dusted crumbs from his hands. “
Time to move on. Another hour will see us to our destination.” He mounted behind her.

  “Water,” she croaked.

  He ran his hand over her back and rear. “Afraid not, my love. Be patient. You will receive all you deserve.”

  She shuddered beneath his touch.

  He laughed. “No reason to fear. You’ll enjoy the things I do to you. Hope you’re as strong as your mother has been. I would hate to lose you but you do have a sister.”

  Doesn’t he know Lasara has run away? Had the Swordmaster hidden this from his cohort?

  Tremors shook her body. Alric, she cried silently. Come soon.

  The darkness of the forest enclosed them in gloom. Though the sun still ruled the sky, the thick canopy of leaves shielded them from most of the light. She peered at the ground and saw they followed a path just wide enough for the bihorn. If her hands had been free, she would have torn cloth from her skirt to leave a trail for Alric. Once a briar scratched her arm and tore a piece from her sleeve. Was the scrap large enough for him to see? Though the thorns clutched her divided skirt she doubted they could tear the deerskin.

  Alric. His name thundered in her thoughts. Had she been wrong about him? Was he alive? Calmness stilled her jangled fears. A smile formed. She had stopped the flow of blood. If he’d been dead the bleeding would have stopped. For once Petan had been a fool. He had believed her cries about the death of her bondmate.

  Suddenly the calm vanished. Had Alric recovered from the blows to his head? Head wounds often stole the injured person’s memories. She dare not think he wouldn’t remember who he was and the reason for their mission. Could he save her? How many men waited at Petan’s destination?

  Could the gang of outlaws number more than the size of a patrol? Two had run from the fight. When she and Alric had searched the farm he had estimated at least five men had driven the livestock and perhaps another two of three had driven the wagon of loot. Alric could defeat two, even if Petan was one of the duelers, especially if Alric’s presence shocked Petan.