Frank-SPrinces

by The Shadowed Princes [lit]

  "You don't fight fair with someone like that old geezer. Lairgan turned his mount to follow Faerwald. Just take him down fast and hard."

  Faerwald laughed. Clennan says he's going to decorate his solstice tree with Todd's head. We better be about collecting it for him."

  They headed west down the alley. Rory waited until they were out of sight and then crept from behind the crate. He glanced in both directions to see that it was safe, and then he ran. His legs carried him faster than ever before in his life, and he arrived at Cahira's Potions and Notions with his heart pounding and his legs trembling. He hit the door without slowing down, and burst inside screaming. Those duelists have gone to ambush Todd."

  Cahira looked up from the table where she sat sipping tea. Betrys stopped stocking the shelves of face creams. Her husband, Artair MacFie, tossed his feather duster onto a cabinet and ran to the back for his medical satchel and his weapons.

  "We have to find him. The color faded from Cahira's face.

  "We will. Do you know where he's gone to? Artair fastened the last buckle on his harness, which carried a mace and a sword.

  "He's delivering those gifts to the children and intends to stop off at Gowyn Caldwell's afterward."

  "I'm going too. Betrys patted the mace she wore.

  "No. You're staying here. Artair gave her a no-nonsense look that quashed her protests before she could speak them. You must tell people what is going on. Tell everyone who enters the store and send for the lawgivers and the militia."

  Betrys nodded her acquiescence.

  Cahira seized Rory's and Artair's hands and Jumped to the Maguire Home. They materialized in the kitchen, startling everyone present.

  Several conversations were going on at once. Kady sipped tea, while chattering with Mary over a stack of baby clothes. Trevor, Kynyr, and Tobrytan MacFie were grabbing a bit of breakfast and discussing what to do about the newest recruits with Darcy. Finn sat on the other side of Darcy in his wheel-chair, which had become a toy while he healed, explaining to Ossian O'Reilly about what had happened the night of the purge.

  "They're ambushing Todd, Artair shouted.

  Kady nearly dropped her cup of tea. Trevor and Kynyr sprang to their feet. Finn stopped in mid-sentence. Darcy knocked her chair over as she leaped up with a hand to her axes.

  Matters were swiftly explained. Trevor ordered everyone into search parties.

  Tobrytan added his myn to the search, while Darcy paired off with Kynyr.

  "I'm coming also. I'll go with Ossian. Mary grabbed her satchel. You may need me."

  * * * *

  Todd had gathered small presents for the cubs of his tenants and a bottle of whiskey for his gamekeeper, Gowyn Caldwell. He rode along Pendarke Road, and turned onto Elmhurst Road that led through his extensive property just past the Maguire Estate.

  He had noticed the hardscrabble poverty that most of his tenants lived under. They were a rugged people, but the land demanded everything they could give it. His parents had been farmers on leased land and he remembered how difficult it had been. He had been thirteen years old before he got his first set of new clothes; until then everything had been hand-me-downs. Elton McCain, who had owned the land before Todd, had insisted on getting everything he could squeeze from them. Todd had reduced their rents, and told them that if they had trouble buying seed in the spring, they were to come to him.

  He left packages on the steps, gave a quick knock, and made a hasty retreat before the doors opened. Todd turned down the path heading for the gamekeeper's cottage. Gowyn Caldwell had become a valued ally. Gowyn's father, Anbiddian, had served with Todd in the Rebellion eighty years past, and Gowyn liked hearing stories of his late father.

  As he emerged from a stand of evergreens into a snow-covered rocky clearing, his horse stumbled, shuddered, and collapsed in the dirt of the road with several arrows sprouting from its neck and chest. Todd tried to throw himself from the saddle as it went down, but his foot caught in the stirrup. His right shoulder blade struck a large sharp rock hidden by the snow. The loud snap of breaking bone preceded a nauseating rush of pain. His right arm hung useless. The dying horse rolled over on Todd and then settled, leaving his lower body contorted beneath its weight, and his left shoulder tightly wedged between the fangs of the outcropping. He heard footsteps crunching across the ice-glazed snow; glanced, and found himself staring into the grinning, hard-eyed face of Faerwald Davies.

  Todd twisted in an attempt to get his imprisoned left hand and arm loose to grasp the battle-axe in his belt. His fingers brushed the edge of it. Between the horse pinning him, the angle at which he lay trapped, and the agony in his broken shoulder, he could not get it free. He triggered the shift into his hybrid form, but that only made him feel the pressure of the rocks worse. Wedged too tight. Bloody bad luck.

  Lairgan Yates sauntered from the trees with his bow in hand. Yates shoved the bow in its case, and unshouldered the quiver, casting it aside as he drew his saber.

  Davies waved his saber in Todd's face suggestively. The six-inch back edge caught the morning light, glinting like fresh-minted silver.

  "You going to kill me where I lie, Davies? Todd locked eyes with Faerwald, stern and unblinking. Or make a fair fight of it?"

  "They say you're the best. Why take chances? Faerwald's saber darted across Todd in a swift flourish, slashed his arms, and maimed his hands, dotting the snow with pieces of his fingers. Then he opened two long cuts in Todd's chest.

  My hands. Dear gods, my hands . Todd stiffened with a grimace. Too old to shrug off pain as he had when he was young; the strength vanished from Todd's aged body in a rush of anguish. Craven bastards."

  "Nothing personal. Lairgan laughed. Just business."

  Faerwald flicked his saber across Todd's cheek in casual contempt, leaving a bleeding furrow, and then rested the point over Todd's chest. You killed Belgair after he surrendered. He begged for quarter. You refused."

  "He poisoned my grandson. Todd gazed steadily at the duelist with no sign of fear. They were going to kill him; and there was nothing he could do about it. Not since he tried to chase a grizzly bear off with a stick at twelve had he been this helpless. Bloody bad luck.

  "Beg, Todd. Beg for quarter."

  "Go to hell. His calmly spoken defiance brought a fleeting scowl from Lairgan. Todd had always known, deep in his heart, that someone who had lived so much of his life by the swordas he hadwould probably die by it. So he had long ago made his peace with death; and he saw no reason to fear the moment now that it had come.

  "Clennan wants you to suffer at great length, Faerwald said conversationally. I'll give you an easier death than Clennan asked for, if you'll beg."

  "Kynyr'll ... kill you ... both for this. His maimed hands burned and ached more than the rest of his wounds, tensing together like claws.

  "Really? Until I came here, I'd never heard of Kynyr Maguire."

  "Pity that."

  "If he's so good, why haven't I heard of him, eh? Answer me that. Anyway, isn't he a cripple now?"

  "Ignorant sod."

  "I assume that's your answer. Faerwald plunged the point of his saber into Todd's lung with a corkscrew twist, dragged it down, and pulled it smoothly out.

  "That's ... done it. Todd's eyes clenched shut and his lips peeled back from his teeth as his body spasmed. Each word brought another wheezing, coughing breath; accompanied by yellow phlegm and a bloody froth from his shredded lung that dribbled down the corners of his mouth. You'll pay ... in kind ... for ... this. Bastards."

  "Not likely. Faerwald gestured with his saber, the blade wet with Todd's blood, bits of flesh clinging to it.

  Todd had assumed that the bones in their hair was an empty affectation. Now, he wondered. If Kynyr ... don't get you ... Jordy will."

  Lairgan's expression sobered and he glanced at Faerwald. Jordy? Jordan Sinclair?"

  "Bane Shepherd ... North Watch ... my son. It gave Todd a grim satisfaction to see that he had struck a blow to Lairgan's confi
dence with that revelation.

  "Shite, Faer. The Shepherds will get us this time."

  "Buck up, Lairgan. I haven't let them catch us yet? Now have I?"

  "True. Lairgan recovered his nerve; his faith in Faerwald undiminished.

  "Lairgan, get his weapons. He doesn't need them now."

  Lairgan removed Todd's swords from the harness, tossed them away, and fumbled with the axes. I can't get them at this angle."

  "We'll drag him loose. Faerwald wiped his saber clean and sheathed it.

  Lairgan shoved a tree branch under the horse, lifted it up, and held it. Faerwald grasped the leather shoulder straps of Todd's weapons harness and extracted him from beneath the fallen animal.

  The lycan armsmaster stifled a scream at the drag on his broken shoulder, and coughed up more blood. Faerwald dropped him in the snow beside the horse, shifted form to put as much power behind his next blow as he could, and stomped Todd's leg, breaking it.

  Todd cried out, which brought on another fit of coughing. Blood dribbled from the corners of his mouth.

  "Clennan wants to decorate his solstice tree with your head. Faerwald drew his saber.

  "It will make a fine ornament, Faer. Lairgan sauntered to his companion's side, eyeing the fine workmonship of the large crescent heads of Todd's kendaryl axes with their silver inlays. Nice axes. I think I'll keep them."

  With a final flare of his old stubbornness, Todd dragged his good foot beneath him and rose, determined to get one blow in before he died. The stubs of his fingers brushed his axe haft. Blood running down his arm made his grip slippery as he tried to make his damaged hand pull it from his belt.

  Lairgan's eyes widened in astonishment. He backhanded his blade into Todd's side, the sharp steel biting deep between his ribs. Todd jerked, gasping. His legs buckled, sending him to his knees. Todd's hips settled on his heels and his mangled hands clutched at his ribs and chest. He threw his head back and howled the lycan death scream.

  "There's no one around to hear you, old sod. Faerwald leveled his saber at Todd's belly. Clennan wants you gutted like Belgair."

  Todd's chin sank to his chest and rested there, his eyes half-closed and his shoulders drooping. Breathing became more and more difficult with each passing moment. Blood filled the lower half of his lung, and the building pressure in his chest began collapsing the rest of it. His severed spleen flooded his clothing with crimson. Dizziness and exhaustion pulled at him. His vision grayed around the edges.

  "I want to watch his eyes when you put it in his belly. Lairgan tangled his fingers in Todd's hair and pulled his head back. We've never killed a legend before."

  "They all look the same when they die. Faerwald regarded Todd, his mouth pursed. He took a firm grip on Todd's harness to hold him steady so that the big lycan did not topple over before Faerwald could get his business done.

  The jingling of caparisoned horses in the quiet morning announced new arrivals. Darcy and Kynyr rode into the clearing. Lairgan released Todd's hair and withdrew to give himself room to deal with the newcomers.

  Todd's head bobbed on his neck like a daisy on a broken stem as he lifted it. His lips moved, and he exhaled Kynyr's name.

  "Bloody, goat-fecking bastards! Darcy sprang from her mount, and stalked toward the duelists with Kynyr following close behind.

  "Give him a bellyful, Faer. Lairgan observed dryly. We've got more customers."

  "The cripple has come to fight? Faerwald eyed Kynyr, incredulous at seeing how he moved with the authority of a lion and no trace of a limp. The duelist smelled a deception, understanding Todd's reason for saying that Kynyr would kill him. Whatever your game is, I play it better. I'll gut Todd before you can reach me."

  "Do it and die. Ossian emerged from the shadows with a crossbow leveled on Faerwald. Mary stepped around him, the bottom of her skirts tucked into her belt to free her legs.

  "Another pair of customers. Lairgan's laughter masked his annoyance at seeing the crossbow pointed at them again.

  Kynyr touched Darcy's arm and halted her. It's Ossian's move."

  She gave him a doubting look, and waited. He better make it a good one. Darcy inclined her head toward the dead horse. Looks like the horse fell on Todd and they cut him up there. Bastards."

  "It's a duel. Faerwald kept his grip on Todd's harness as he watched Ossian warily.

  "I'd call it murder. Ossian took another step toward them.

  Faerwald's eyes slewed sidewise at Lairgan with a slight nod. Lairgan's wrist twitched. A knife flashed from his fingers, striking Ossian in the chest. The lawgiver staggered and triggered the crossbow, but the bolt flew wide as he fell. Ossian lay half-curled in the snow, his fingers clutching at the blade protruding from him, his breathing labored. Murderers."

  "You're learning, Lawgiver. Lairgan's lips tightened. Pity it's going to be a fatal lesson."

  Kynyr cursed and glided across the clearing; his ginger blond hair bloused around his face like the mane of a hunting cat. Darcy walked to his right with enough space between them that they would not get in each other's way.

  "Wait your turn, Kynyr. Lairgan moved to intercept the prince before Kynyr could reach Faerwald and Todd.

  Faerwald shoved his blade into Todd's belly, gave it a savage twist, and drew it across to make a mess of his guts. Finished here. Who's next?"

  Todd shuddered as the sword was withdrawn from him, blinking dull-eyed at his severed entrails bulging through the long tear. He swayed for an instant when Faerwald released his harness, and then crumpled to lay staring at the sky, his blood spreading through his clothes and staining the snow around him. His thoughts turned to Cahira and how much he loved her; recalling her face again through the eye of memory.

  Seeing Faerwald open Todd's belly sent a shock through Kynyr. He went cold as a winter storm inside; clarity took hold as crisp and sharp as ice, and his pace slowed to a cautious walk.

  Mary screamed Todd's name, scrambling to his side. Small animal noises of suffering emerged from far back in his throat and the slight gleam in his otherwise dull eyes was the glazing of pain. Her fingers brushed his face, and then she lifted her eyes to stare hatred at Faerwald. You cold-hearted bastard."

  She spit in Faerwald's face.

  He flicked her a condescending smile. You have so many pretty bitches, Kynyr ... Guess what the thanes will do to them when you're dead?"

  Faerwald's eyes narrowed when his taunt brought no change in the ice and steel of Kynyr's expression. Doubt flickered through him for an instant.

  No insult, no taunt, no threat could touch Kynyr. When he gutted Todd, Faerwald had hurt Kynyr beyond the power of words to reach him. His enemies had taken Kynyr's friends, his father, the Redhand side of his family, and now Todd. Within the halls of his psyche at that moment, Kynyr became a mon with nothing left to lose; possessed of a chill determination to pursue and destroy all who dared to harm or threaten those he loved.

  Mary drew an axe from Todd's belt and chopped at Faerwald. He stepped away, blocked it desultorily, and kicked Mary in the face. Now, now. We'll have time to get better acquainted once my business is concluded."

  "Faerwald's mine. Kynyr drew Ladyfaith. Darcy?"

  Her lips curled back into a sneer as she paced toward Lairgan, going deeper into her transitional form with each step she took. Although she carried a basket-hilted claymore at her shoulder, Darcy went for her axes instead.

  Mary cradled Todd's head in her lap, unshouldered her satchel, snapped her various cases open, and got a pressure bandage on the chest wound. She fastened clips to his spleen to stop the bleeding as the Creeyan surgeons had shown her. Mary started to fill a syringe with Narcantha and changed her mind, filling it instead with Pollendine; a narcotic so strong and potentially addictive that most healers reserved it for the dying. It was a silent acknowledgement of what Mary could not bring herself to say.

  Kynyr circled toward Faerwald, and the duelist moved farther into the open, away from the obstacles provided by Todd, Mary, and th
e dead horse. Keeping half an eye on the duelist, Kynyr dropped to one knee by Todd and scooped up his axe that Mary had tried to hit the duelist with. He kissed Todd's forehead. I love you, grandfather."

  Mary looked into Kynyr's eyes, her face taut with grief. Gut him, Kynyr."

  "I intend to. Kynyr moved away.

  Faerwald had chosen his spot of ground on which to fight; and the easy confidence had returned to his stance and lips.

  The pain eased and Todd could speak again. Lift me up, Mary ... I want to see."

  Mary shifted into her hybrid form, gathered Todd into her arms, and cradled him. His head rested against her shoulder, a smile of weary pride on his lips as he watched Kynyr driving Faerwald back while Darcy opened a gash in Lairgan's chest.

  "They're my legacy, Mary. Fits of coughing punctuated his words, bringing a bloody froth running from the corners of his mouth. Kynyr ... Darcy ... Finn. My legacy ... the three finest ... warriors ... I've ever ... trained..."

  "I know, Todd. I know. She stroked his head.

  "If I don't get to ... you tell Kynyr ... for me ... I loved him. His voice grew faint and then he sagged against her, his head falling back.

  A sob broke from Mary as she Read him. Hang on, Todd. Please hang on. Just a little longer."

  Tobrytan arrived with twenty MacLachlan horsemyn, and spread out around them, blocking any retreat that the duelists might have hoped for.

  Artair threw himself from his horse, knelt beside Ossian, drew the blade, and bandaged the wound.

  "Murdering scum, Ossian grumbled.

  Tobrytan dismounted beside Mary. Todd?"

  "He's in a bad way. Mary raised her tear streaked face to him. We need to get him to the house."

  * * * *

  Faerwald Davies made small circling movements and suggestive feints with his saber while holding a main gauche at guard. Kynyr recognized the style: Sharani. Faerwald may have originated from a Battle-Clan or he might have braided the bones into his hair to make myn think he had. Faerwald's opening moves merely tested Kynyr's ability to assess his style. Kynyr did not have onehe had several and could switch between them or combine them. Todd had trained him well.