Revenge

by Fiona McIntosh

  It was a rare sensation, she realised as they walked the roads, to enjoy being Lauryn. It was a grand feeling and the only blot on her day was her brother’s tone over the link.

  Who was this girl he had to help, this Yseul? How could he have become so involved with someone, even as a friend, in such a short time? Lauryn grunted, but when Sorrel glanced at her, she ignored the look and kept walking. Gidyon had sounded anxious. Actually, that was what bothered her most of all. She was worried. Just when she had finally found someone to love and care about, he got himself in trouble and she was helplessly far away and unable to help. She wanted to open a link with Gidyon right this moment, but she dared not. He had made it very clear that he needed to be left alone to think.

  The hedgerow was thickening and, as they approached a bend in the road, Sorrel stopped.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Lauryn asked, coming out of her thoughts.

  ‘Someone approaches,’ Sorrel said quietly. ‘Lauryn, it is important to say this now. Should anything happen to us—’

  Lauryn cut across the old girl’s words. ‘What do you mean, happen?’ She sounded alarmed.

  ‘I mean, child, should we get separated, or if I am unable to travel with you for any reason, you must make your own way to the Heartwood. Do not wait for me. Do not even pause for me, no matter what might occur. Get yourself to Axon and into the Great Forest, to your father. Make haste.’

  Lauryn could hear men’s voices now and the sound of horses. They were moving slowly.

  ‘Lauryn.’ Sorrel insisted she listen. ‘Do not tell anyone who you are or how you come to be here. Let them know nothing about your background. Lie if you must but get yourself to the Heartwood as fast as you can—alone!’

  Lauryn could hardly miss the fear in Sorrel’s voice but she had no time to ask more. Around the curve of the road appeared four horsemen. She and Sorrel moved to the grass verge, eyes averted, expecting them to pass.

  ‘Who are they?’ Lauryn whispered.

  ‘King’s men,’ was all Sorrel had time to say.

  The horses ambled to a halt. One of the men addressed them. ‘Pardon me, ladies. Are you alone?’

  ‘Obviously,’ Lauryn answered, feeling nervous from Sorrel’s caution. The old woman hissed at her.

  The man got down from his horse and his men followed. He approached the two women and spoke. ‘May I have your names, please?’

  Sorrel curtsied. ‘Forgive my granddaughter, sir. She is in poor humour today.’ She glared at Lauryn to remain quiet. ‘I am Sorrel, a herbwoman. This is Lauryn. We are travelling towards Axon.’

  ‘I see,’ he said. He looked at Lauryn. ‘We are patrolling this area for a band of thieves. We lost sight of them last night.’

  ‘Well, we haven’t seen anything,’ Lauryn said, hoping to bring the conversation to a close.

  He ignored her tone and addressed Sorrel. ‘Madam, may I suggest that you exercise caution in travelling alone with a young woman. These men have shown themselves to be ruthless. They already know they are dead thrice over for their deeds; they show no regard for anyone.’

  ‘Are we in danger from them here?’

  ‘Well, madam, the next village is not far. I would suggest you remain there today and perhaps join with a group who may be travelling to Tal or even Hatten. Safety in numbers. The road seems clear. We have made our presence felt so you should be safe.’

  He smiled kindly. ‘I am Captain Lyngos, by the way.’

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ Sorrel said, curtsying politely again.

  Lauryn could not help herself. ‘I would suggest travelling in a group would draw more attention to ourselves. At least with just the two of us, these men, should we encounter them, will quickly see we have nothing worth stealing.’

  The captain turned back to her. ‘Do you not?’

  ‘No,’ she replied, a little haughtily. ‘My grandmother and I are on foot. We have one bag with a few items of no interest to anyone. We have so little money; it probably would not keep them in ale.’

  ‘Young lady,’ the captain said, eyeing her firmly, ‘these men may take your grandmother’s coin, but they may also decide to rob you of something more precious.’

  It took Lauryn a moment to realise what he meant. He was already on his horse and moving forwards when understanding hit and she felt herself blush with hot embarrassment.

  ‘The Light guide you safely,’ the captain said to Sorrel and they moved on.

  When the guardsmen were out of earshot, Sorrel turned on her. ‘You must learn to curb that quick tongue of yours. It will get you into trouble. You have no status here yet. That was a captain of the King’s Guard and due your respect.’

  Sorrel broke into a coughing fit which lasted some minutes. She could say no more.

  By the time she was calm again, the incident was put aside. Lauryn was now worried for Sorrel, who was sitting on the ground from the effort of coughing.

  ‘Are you sick, Sorrel? How can I help?’

  ‘Not sick. Just old,’ she said. ‘It is almost my time.’

  ‘Your time?’

  ‘My work is almost done. I must see you safely into the care of your parents, then I can go to my rest.’

  It all sounded too ominous for Lauryn. She changed the subject. ‘Are you able to continue walking?’

  ‘Help me up, child. We must be alert until the next village.’

  Lauryn offered to carry her bag but Sorrel refused. Instead, Lauryn insisted she lighten the load and removed three apples to her own pockets and carried the small flask of fresh water. It made little difference, she was sure, but she felt better for doing something.

  They covered the next mile or so wrapped in their own silent thoughts. Progress was slow but the weather was fine and it was a good road they walked. Lauryn began to relax. Sorrel was weak, there was no doubt about it, but she was a gritty old girl and made no further complaint. By mid afternoon, they sensed they were not far from the village of Hamptyn. Sorrel said they would have to stay overnight, even if they just begged the cover of a barn and a knuckle of bread from one of the farmers.

  Just as she finished saying this, they rounded another bend in the road and were confronted by a small upturned cart. Lying at the side of the road was a seemingly lifeless man, his face covered in blood. By his side a lad knelt. He looked very distressed and, when he saw them, he jumped to his feet and started yelling. ‘Help me, please! It’s my da. He’s dying.’

  ‘Light!’ Sorrel said. She did not heed her own warning and broke into a fast shuffle over to the boy. ‘Quick, Lauryn,’ she called over her shoulder.

  Lauryn took in the scene. Sorrel had told her to be so careful and here she was rushing into a situation without care. Lauryn could see that something was not right here.

  Sorrel dug a cloth out of her bag to clean up the man and see how bad his wounds were.

  ‘Lauryn!’ she yelled. ‘I need some water.’ Lauryn moved closer and handed Sorrel the flask. ‘Use this. We can always get more.’

  She looked at the boy. He immediately averted his eyes, though she knew he had been staring. There was not so much as a tear staining his face, for all his anxiety over his father. Something told her his antics were forced. He kept darting his attention behind her. No horse! That was it. That’s what was wrong. Where was the horse which had been pulling this cart?

  She swung around but it was too late. Three burly men were approaching behind her.

  She screamed and the boy grabbed her. He was rangy but strong and his fingers dug cruelly into her arms. Sorrel began to scream as well as the wounded man sat up and grabbed her too, laughing.

  ‘Let’s see what’s in this bag then, shall we, old lady? And if there’s nothing worth taking, I’ll help myself to something from her,’ he said, licking his lips clear of the blood smeared all over them and eyeing Lauryn.

  ‘No!’ shrieked Lauryn, with clear understanding of his intentions.

  One of the men dangled a rabbit in her face; its throat
cut and still oozing the blood which had been smeared on the ‘wounded’ man’s face. She tried to push it away but blood flecked her face in her effort. The men laughed.

  ‘Take her into the woods,’ the leader said, standing, one foot pinning Sorrel to the ground.

  Sorrel found her voice. ‘Run, Lauryn, run!’

  The boy turned back and belted Sorrel so hard that the old lady fell backwards and lay deadly still.

  Lauryn had been in shock to this point. But now she felt fury rising and, although two of the burly men had literally lifted her off her feet and were running her off the road into the copse of trees ahead, she began a titanic struggle. She screamed, kicked and bit whatever she could find. Fortunately, she found one man’s ear and ripped the lobe clean off. He screamed and let go of her, but the other fellow still had a mighty grip. Her arm had gone numb from his hard hold on it. He slapped her.

  ‘Get up, Belco!’ he ordered. ‘Help me get her away from here. We can have some fun later and you can get your revenge. You had ugly ears anyway.’

  Belco belted her too, for good measure. It felt to Lauryn as though he might break her arm by the cruel way he twisted it behind her back. Her head burned from the blow but she could still see the image in her mind of Sorrel lying on the grass, lifeless, and the first man rifling through her bag.

  The leader arrived, the lad behind him. ‘Where’s my grandmother?’ Lauryn screamed at them.

  ‘Dead!’ the leader said viciously. ‘Which is what you’ll be if you don’t shut your mouth.’

  Captain Lyngos and his men arrived at the rendezvous point. His chief, the Under Prime, was kneeling at a stream near where they had set up camp. Shirtless he stood up, flicking water from his hair and face, and used his old shirt to dry himself. The Under Prime was a good-looking man; he reminded Lyngos of Prime Cyrus from years ago. He possessed the same quick wit and intelligence, as well as the dashing bravado and arrogance which won the hearts of the ladies.

  It had been hard to accept him as their chief at first. They could all remember him as the little boy who had been found chained to the palace railings. Now he was a man. Not exceptionally tall, but built strongly with a heart to match. He had earned their respect the hard way, beating all of them with sword, stick, fists if necessary. None of the men had made it easy but he had won through.

  It was clear that the young man had not asked for this position. He was a favourite of the King and it had been dropped onto his broad shoulders with no choice but to accept. He had not pushed his role too hard; Gyl was intelligent enough to realise that he must take the business of leading men slowly. Trust had to be earned. With Prime Herek away, as his deputy he was in charge of the remaining company.

  ‘Anything?’ he said, striding towards them with his distinctive swagger.

  ‘No, sir. All quiet. We have swept around from the back of Hamptyn and the only people we encountered were an old woman and her acidtongued granddaughter.’

  Gyl nodded. ‘They’re here, all right. But they’re too clever for their own good.’ He walked to his saddlebag and dug out a fresh shirt. ‘All right, we break camp and set up a new rendezvous point and we’ll go through this next ten miles with a fine comb.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Get your men fed and rested, Lyngos.’

  The captain nodded and saluted, then turned to give orders.

  ‘Oh, Lyngos, these people you met—was it wise to let them travel alone? How old was the girl?’

  ‘I’d guess around sixteen summers, sir. Dressed plainly. They were on foot and insisted they had nothing worth taking.’

  ‘Other than the obvious thing that fiends like these will not think twice about stealing,’ Gyl said, shaking his head. ‘Did you offer them an escort?’

  ‘No, sir, I didn’t. They were adamant that travelling alone suited them.’

  Gyl believed the captain should have insisted, and Lyngos now realised he should have too. These men had killed many times and, having had the death sentence proclaimed on them over and again, had nothing more to lose. Rape was one of their favourite pastimes. An old girl and a young woman on foot would be easy pickings.

  ‘Thank you, captain. Get some food into you.’ Gyl dismissed the men and pulled on his shirt.

  He knew the story of Alyssa’s rape, which she had told him haltingly one rainy night a year or so ago. He could not recall why this tale had spilled out just then, but they had cried together over it and he had made her a promise then and there, that every woman in the Kingdom would be safe when he was Prime.

  That comment from a young man had brought a smile to Alyssa’s face. ‘My brave Gyl. So you think you’ll be Prime one day, do you?’

  ‘I shall lead my men bravely and I shall die for my King if required,’ he had said, leaping to his feet and grabbing the sword he was so proud of. ‘And every woman will be able to travel the roads of Tallinor without fear!’

  He remembered how his stepmother—the woman he now thought of as his true mother—had stood and hugged him hard. ‘That is a fine promise.’

  Gyl brought his thoughts back to the present and called for his horse.

  ‘Carry on. I’ll catch up with you,’ he reassured the captain, who looked over at him enquiringly. ‘I’ll just see those women safely into Hamptyn.’

  He hit the road at a steady canter.

  Lauryn felt real fear now. ‘What do you want from me?’ she yelled at the leader.

  ‘All it is that you have left to give us,’ he said and laughed.

  ‘Tie her to that tree for now, Belco. What happened to your ear, man?’

  ‘She bit me,’ Belco lamented, pushing Lauryn back against the tree trunk.

  ‘Well then, you’ll just have to bite her back later in a place she’s never felt such pain before,’ the man replied and grinned horribly at her.

  Lauryn knew if she did not do something right now, it was over for her. These men would rape her, maybe torture her. Certainly they would not leave her alive. And Sorrel was dead! She could not dwell on that now, but Sorrel had forbidden her to linger, had urged her to flee at any sign of danger. And she would never see her Gidyon again, or meet her father, or be held in her mother’s arms if she did not do something now!

  With that rush of emotional thought, a new sensation flowed through her body. She felt it like a pulse and then she sensed the Colours; it was as though they were rushing through her. Suddenly she felt lightheaded and…powerful. Yes, that was it! She felt power. Not really understanding the sensation, or knowing what to do with it, she reacted instinctively when Belco bent her arm painfully back behind her for the second time that day.

  Belco’s body hit the tree opposite with great force and a sickening crunch. His body dropped to the ground, broken; his ear leaking a trickle of blood, which would stop shortly because his heart no longer pumped life.

  The two other men had their backs turned, but the lad saw what happened and called out in shock. The men turned, their eyes flicking first to Lauryn, who was still untied, and then to Belco on the floor.

  ‘Get her!’ the leader cried and they rushed her.

  Lauryn blinked, still struggling to understand how she had harmed Belco, and then she was running.

  Sorrel’s voice haunted her: ‘Run, Lauryn, run!’ and run she did, like a startled hare. She picked up her skirt and crashed through the copse of trees at a speed she never thought she possessed, but the men were in hot pursuit. She zigzagged, trying to throw them off, but knew she was making far too much noise, so she headed for open country, bursting out of the cover of trees and running across a field.

  They spotted her, of course, and soon the lad was gaining on her. Lauryn stepped up her speed but the burning in her chest told her she could not keep this up; she might be able to outrun the two heavy men but not the lad, and he was all it would take to pin her down.

  So she stopped and turned on him. Breathing heavily, she eyed him ferociously and it stopped him in his tracks. He approached cau
tiously.

  ‘Don’t take another step forward,’ she said.

  He lunged but found himself hurled high into the air; when he found land again it was with an assortment of broken limbs. He began to scream from the pain but Lauryn did not care. She turned on her heel and ran off through the field, with no idea of where she was headed, other than away from the scene of death behind her.

  Gyl cantered around the curve of the road and scanned the scene. An overturned cart lay there, but had nothing in it, which was odd. Lyngos had made no mention of this either, but if the accident had just occurred, there would be lots of confusion, a terrified horse and its owner trying to calm it down. Gyl remained on his horse, cautious that this could be a trap.

  Approaching slowly, he suddenly noticed a woman lying at the side of the road, her body roughly covered by a few branches. She was silvery-haired and clearly old. His heart sank. This was probably the old woman Lyngos had mentioned. With no sign of the granddaughter, Gyl could only imagine the worst. He punched his thigh, anger gripping him that this could have happened under his very nose.

  He made a swift decision. If the old girl was dead, then there was nothing he could do for her. Right now, he might still be able to save her granddaughter.

  With a kick of his stirrups and a cry of anger, he forced his horse up the small embankment and into the copse. He drew his sword and guided the horse carefully through the trees. It did not take Gyl long to find the smashed body of Belco. Once again he did not leave the safety of his high position. The man was dead, that was for sure, but he could not imagine what had happened here.

  Witnesses had reported three men and a lad, so there were three outlaws still on the loose. He called out but received no response, so decided to head out of the copse and see what lay beyond. Emerging from the cover of trees, he looked ahead and saw two men running across the field. When he squinted he could see the golden hair of a woman bouncing wildly, running not that far in front of them.