The Heir Of Westfall [The Alurian Chronicles Book 1]

by Christopher W. Wilcox, Sr.

  Swiftstalker said, “Are you sure?"

  "Yes, her pendant is enchanted and I can track it anywhere. She is bound in a wagon moving south. You and I are going after her. I want you to slip out the door and get our gear ready. You know what we need. Get some food from the kitchen then take it all to the stables. I will be there within the hour.” Rory's voice was grim and filled with purpose.

  After Swiftstalker left the room, Rory walked over to Earl Sudcliffe. “I gave you my oath that no harm shall come to your daughter, and I will honor that. The King's Own have been tricked into pursuing the wrong group. Bethany is on her way to Solange and I will bring her back. Those who took her will die."

  Earl Sudcliffe looked into the eyes of the man his daughter loved, saw the resolve in them, and knew he spoke the truth. “Go with my blessings, Rorrick of Westfell. Find my daughter and bring her home."

  Rory slipped from the room without anyone noticing. He raced to the stables and changed into the fighting leathers he and Swiftstalker had worn on their first trip to town. There was no place for fine clothes on this trip. This trip called for fast horses and sharp swords, with a swift death for all who stood between him and Bethany. And once he had her safe in his arms once more, not even the king himself would be able to separate them again.

  Part Four

  SOLANGE

  Chapter 20

  Bethany was tired and sore. She had entered her room after Rory had kissed her one last time, her mind awhirl from the powerful emotions and feelings that reverberated in her body. She was thinking about defying convention by slipping into Rory's room when a pair of strong arms enveloped her from behind. A gag was forced into her mouth and tied into place before a hood was placed over her head. She was carried across the room and rolled into some kind of enveloping cloth, which she later realized was one of the tapestries from her chamber. Her next sensation was of being carried out of the castle and dropped into the bed of a wagon. Other things were piled on top of her, obscuring the bundle to hide her from view. The wagon got underway, bouncing her against the hard floorboards as it traveled over the rough roads away from Aluria. It was daybreak before the wagon stopped and she was transferred to another one, still bound in the rolled up tapestry. Somehow she slept despite the terror she felt.

  She was expecting to see the Duke of Eastfell's leering face when she was finally released from the carpet, so the strange dark faces that surrounded her came as shock. The men were garbed in long flowing robes and headdresses. Curved swords hung at their sides. Two of them held her arms while another ripped her dress from her body, leaving her standing in just her underskirts, hose, and court slippers. Spying the glimmering pendant between her breasts, the man reached out and grabbed it to tear it from her neck.

  He began to scream as his hand burst into flame, letting go of the pendant which fell back between her breasts, still cool against her skin. The flames spread despite everything the man and his friends did to extinguish them, eventually consuming him. When the other men had rushed to his aid, Bethany had fled. She ran as fast as she could, clutching the pendant in her hand, realizing that Rory must have enchanted the mithrail wolf. Perhaps that same enchantment would lead him to her.

  Her escape was short-lived. Obviously master horsemen, her abductors had easily caught up to her on the open ground and snared her with a rope. She was tumbled to the ground and her hands were bound behind her back. A short length of rope was tied between her ankles, effectively hobbling her so she could not run. The rope binding her hands behind her back also thrust her chest forward, making her breasts even more prominent. She realized a few moments later that the men were staring at the pendant and not her body.

  They spoke to one another in a harsh language she had never heard before, gesturing angrily at the pendant and back at the corpse still smoking back by the wagon. One finally picked up a long stick and tried to slide it underneath the chain. He jerked back as if he'd been shocked and dropped the stick as it burst into flames. More muttered words Bethany could only surmise were curses and then she was jerked to her feet by her arms and pushed back to the wagon.

  One of the men picked up the material from the skirt of her dress, tore away the bodice, and after cutting a slit roughly in the center of one of the skirt panels, he pulled it over her head to cover her body and the pendant. He looked at the wagon and then at the three horses. Bethany could see his mind working; the horses would be faster than the wagon but she would also be able to use the horse to escape if they were careless. Expediency won over that concern as he untied the rope around her ankles and pushed her up on the horse while the other man held its reins. Once she was astride, the man bound her ankles again by passing the rope under the horse. Her hands were still bound behind her and she knew she would die if she lost her balance and slid under the horse. The man rearranged the draped cloth to more completely cover her body then looped another rope around her waist to hold the drape securely in place.

  He mounted and took the reins to Bethany's horse from the other man. Once he was mounted, they rode out into the countryside and far away from the road that led to Aluria.

  * * * *

  Rory and Swiftstalker had been riding for many hours yet had not been able to intercept the convoy of wagons and soldiers that carried Bethany away. Rory had been almost knocked from his saddle by a physic backblast that occurred the moment someone attempted to remove the pendant from around Bethany's neck.

  "What is it, Rory?” Swiftstalker asked as Rory suddenly swayed in his saddle.

  "Someone has triggered the enchantment in the pendant. The pendant cannot be removed by anyone other than Bethany or me. Someone just found that out the hard way."

  "What happened to him?"

  "He was burned alive and nothing in this world will extinguish the flames until they consume him completely."

  Swiftstalker stared at Rory. He hadn't known such an enchantment was even possible. Why would Rory create it in the first place? Of course, if Eastfell had ever tried to remove the pendant, Rory would have ensured his death in as horrible a manner as could be imagined.

  "She is well, then?” Swiftstalker asked. “Can you still sense her?"

  "Yes, she is now on horseback rather than a wagon. There are two men with her but they are not the ones who took her. These are Solange nomad warriors,” Rory said, a touch of despair creeping into his voice. “We will not be able to follow them much longer if they head into the open desert because our horses will not survive there."

  They spurred their horses on, watching the trail for any sign that might lead them to Bethany. The ruts in the road made by the wagon wheels were easily seen, and Swiftstalker's sharp eyes detected the place where a different conveyance had been waiting. A small campfire indicated this group had been here for some time waiting for the main body. Tracks could be seen where something had been carried to this new wagon and then it left by a different trail. The main body had continued on.

  "Which way do we go, Rory?” Swiftstalker asked. “Do we follow the original group, or this new wagon with its narrow track?"

  "The new one, I think. It would make sense to transfer Bethany from the main group in case someone like us was to intercept them. Without Bethany, we could do nothing to prove their involvement in her abduction,” Rory said after a moment.

  They quickly followed the tracks and eventually came across the wagon itself, with the grisly remains of the smoldering corpse beside it. “This is the place, Uncle. She was taken from here by horseback.” Spotting the shredded bodice lying on the ground, he added, “They will pay dearly for this outrage."

  "Rory, you do understand that we may not be in time to prevent anything from happening to her, don't you? If she is in the hands of the nomads, then she has been given over into slavery."

  "I am well aware she may be abused by those who hold her, although I do not think it has happened yet. It will not make any difference to me, Uncle. They may steal her virtue but not her honor or her heart
. Now, let's quit wasting time and see whether we can catch them before they reach the desert."

  They rode swiftly through the scrublands and low hills, following the faint tracks of three horses until the light faded from the sky and they could no longer see. Forced at last to stop, Rory stood staring out into the blackness before him, feeling Bethany getting farther and farther away.

  * * * *

  Her captors never spoke to her but conversed easily between themselves as they rode. As the sun was fading from the sky, they came down a defile between two hills and she saw before them the great expanse of the desert of Solange. Huge rolling hills of sand stretched as far as she could see, shaped by the vagaries of the blowing wind. She could see nothing green, only endless dunes of tan.

  The transition from the defile to the desert was abrupt. The pounding sound of the horses’ hooves on the packed dirt and rock of the scrubland and defile was replaced by the soft whisper of sand. While not in the same class as her captors, Bethany knew enough about horses to know these animals were not suited for travel in the desert. She could feel the dance of their feet on the shifting sands made the horses unsure and skittish.

  Her captors pressed on. Although the desert looked the same to her, they seemed to know exactly where they were going. She realized after a while that they must be following the stars, much as those who sailed the seas used them to find their way across large bodies of water. As the night went on, she grew cold and increasingly uncomfortable. It had been almost a full day since she had last eaten or attended to any of her bodily functions. The men ignored her muffled pleas to stop, and her tears dampened the gag round her mouth.

  Finally, they crested a dune to find a nomad camp sheltered in its lee. They rode up to a picket line and the men dismounted, tying their horses’ reins to it. One man pulled a wicked curved dagger from his belt and slashed the rope that bound her feet under the horse, and then he reached up and tumbled her to the ground. Only the cushioning effect of the sand softened the impact as she struck the ground.

  He called out in their strange language and a shrouded figure in a black robe and veil came from one of the tents. As the figure approached, he retied Bethany's hands in front of her. Her arms were numb and she almost screamed as her tortured shoulders moved back to their normal alignment. Another short length of rope was tied around her neck and the end was handed to the shrouded figure. Short tugs on the rope made Bethany follow behind the shrouded figure into a nearby tent.

  Once inside the tent, the shrouded figure removed the veils, revealing herself to be a woman. She was dark like the men, but her eyes were a startling blue. Bethany realized her dark skin was caused by the sun and this woman was probably a native of Aluria or one of the other northern duchies.

  "Please, you must help me,” Bethany said.

  The woman looked at her a long minute before she said, “There is no help for you here. Whoever you were before no longer matters. Here you are a slave, just as I am.” The woman shook her head. “No doubt the men just rode all night without stopping, yes? You must need to relieve yourself. I will take you to the place for that, but you must not try to run. There is no place for you to go, for there is nothing but sand for many, many miles. If you run, they will hurt you. Do you understand?"

  Bethany miserably nodded her head and the woman once again wrapped her veil around her head before leading Bethany outside and off into the rolling dunes until they were out of sight of the camp. She released Bethany's bonds and stood back as Bethany gathered her skirts up and squatted in the dark. She pushed fresh sand over the wet spot and meekly followed the woman back to the tent.

  Unveiled once more, the woman said, “I am called Ilara. I have been told to teach you what you need to know and help you adjust to your new life."

  "You don't understand, Ilara. I am Lady Bethany, daughter of Earl Sudcliffe, the king's chancellor. This must all be some kind of mistake. I am to marry Lord Rorrick, Heir of Westfell. He will come looking for me."

  "How can he hope to find you here in the Great Desert, child? And if he did, if he was so foolish as to try to rescue you, these nomads would cut him down like a dog. The life of an infidel is nothing to them. Now, take off those rags and we will dress you properly."

  Bethany reluctantly pulled off the remains of her dress, blushing as she exposed herself to Ilara.

  "All of it, child. None of it suits life in the desert, especially for a slave."

  Coloring even more, Bethany removed her underskirt and hose. She now stood nude and somewhat defiant as Ilara walked around her, assessing her body. When she saw the wolf pendant, she said, “What is this? I am surprised the men did not steal it.” Ilara reached out to take it.

  "Stop, I beg you. Don't touch it. One man tried to take it but was burned to death as he touched it. It bears an enchantment that prevents anyone from removing it,” Bethany said.

  Ilara withdrew her hand quickly, superstitious fear in her eyes. “It is bewitched? Truly?"

  "Would I still have it if it were not?"

  Ilara helped Bethany pull the heavy black desert robe over her head, showing her how to tie the black band around her waist to secure the robe from underneath. Black slippers covered her feet. Lara then brushed and plaited Bethany's hair into a single braid, which she then covered completely with a black scarf. “This is how you will dress every day from now on. I will help you with your hair and you will help me with mine. At no time will you leave this tent without a veil over your face. All that may be exposed is your eyes. You must never look directly into a man's eyes or he will think you challenge his authority. Should you displease a man, he will beat you. Should you challenge him, even without meaning to, he will whip you or perhaps kill you."

  "What will be my duties? What will they expect of me?"

  "For now, you will assist me and do what I tell you. You must quickly learn their language and I will teach you. If a man gestures for you to fill his cup, you do so. We exist only to satisfy their needs. If we fail or displease them, they can kill us, for we are less than nothing in their eyes. We are slaves. We are women. And we are infidels. Of the three, the last is the worst in their eyes, for they regard killing infidels as a way to honor their gods."

  Seeing the tears forming in Bethany's eyes, Ilara said, “Cry your tears now, but never in front of them. It is a sign of weakness and they despise it. Go lie down upon those mats and rest. In the morning, we shall begin."

  * * * *

  Rory stared at the edge of the defile where it met the limitless dunes of sand that seemed to march forever into the distance. The tracks had been clear up to the edge of the defile, but vanished when they reached the sand. The night wind had scoured the sand clear of any trace of the men who had taken Bethany. He could feel her across the distance and knew she was still asleep in some kind of tent, but he could not tell how far away she might be.

  "What next, Rory?” Swiftstalker asked, his voice compassionate as if he could feel Rory's pain at having failed Bethany.

  "We shall go pay a call on the Duke of Solange, Uncle, and gain his help in finding her. Since we know he had a role in her abduction, he must know who has her now. He will tell us what we wish to know or he will die."

  Chapter 21

  Ilara woke Bethany as the first hint of day began to lighten the sky. She led Bethany to the spot behind the dunes to take care of their morning needs, and then to a much larger tent toward the center of the camp. Here, Bethany found many women clad in the same shapeless black garb and veils, preparing food. Ilara led her to one side and told her to wait. Bethany stood and watched as platters were laden with many covered dishes. At Ilara's signal, Bethany picked up one of the trays and followed her back outside.

  She led Bethany to yet another tent, this one guarded by a pair of fierce nomad warriors. One said something to Ilara and she led Bethany inside. The floor of this tent was covered in thick carpets with bright designs and bold colors. Thick pillows were scattered around a low table upon w
hich Ilara set her tray and then took Bethany's to place beside the first one. She removed the covers off the dishes, revealing slivers of roasted lamb, rice, dates, and other foods Bethany could not identify.

  Bethany followed Ilara to a corner of the tent where a large samovar was located. Ilara taught Bethany how to make the heavy hot tea, thickened with honey, that was the favorite beverage of the nomads. As the morning meal progressed, she scurried silently to refill each man's cup whenever he gestured at her. No one spoke to her or Ilara; they were invisible to the men as they sat talking among themselves in the language of the nomads. As the men finished eating, Ilara brought them bowls of warm water with which they washed their fingers since all their food had been eaten with their hands. Bethany gave each man a towel, which was used to dry their hands and then thrown onto the ground as they left the tent. Once the last man had left, the two women quickly collected the towels, bowls, dishes, and cups to return them to the cooking tent.

  Ilara then led Bethany to yet another tent, this one more sumptuous than the last, with four guards at its door. A brief word with one of the guards and the two women slipped inside. This tent was empty. Ilara showed Bethany how to clean the tent, brushing any sand from the carpets and straightening the sleeping mats and floor pillows. They collected the small oil lamps from their hangers and took them outside to refuel, then returned them to their places.

  They spent the rest of the morning cleaning all the tents of the camp and refilling the oil lamps. By then, the sun had risen high in the sky and the heat was becoming oppressive. The nomads had all slipped back inside their tents and Ilara brought Bethany back to their own tent.

  "They will all rest during the heat of the day until about an hour before sunset. At that time, one of two things will happen. We will start cooking for dinner, or we will begin to tear down the camp to move out. If it is the first, then you will do just what you did this morning. If it is the latter, stay by my side and help me with the tents."