Through her closed eyelids, she still saw light blaze from the sword. Heat tongues licked at and stung her seeping wound. Andrixine bit her lips against crying out.
"Endure a moment more, daughter,” Brother Klee whispered. He laid the flat of the sword along the wound.
Ice touched her savaged flesh and raced up her spine and down, spiraling through her guts. Andrixine gasped, and her breath caught in her lungs.
"Finished.” Brother Klee draped a blanket over her and turned to slide the Spirit Sword back into its scabbard.
Andrixine sat up, trembling, and tugged off the ruined shirt. She gathered the blanket around herself and reached for the fresh breast-bands draped over the headboard.
"What do we do now?” she asked as she wound the bands into place.
"We rescue your mother, of course.” Brother Klee brought her a clean shirt. “Jultar is telling his men. It is best they know the truth."
"Yes, I suppose so.” She struggled to put the shirt on under the blanket. Standing, she let the blanket fall and finished lacing her shirt closed. “All right,” she said, and walked over to the single window in the long, stuffy room. It commanded a view of the river.
The warriors shuffled into the room, all eyes on her. Andrixine didn't know whether to laugh or cry over the change. Only two hours before they had been teasing her, yanking on a braid or nudging her aside or towering over her—treating her as a little brother, with affectionate roughness.
"It is sheathed and hidden again,” she said, when she noticed a few sets of eyes searching the shadows.
"Sword Bearer,” Jultar said, “may we ask your name?"
"Warlord Jultar of Rayeen,” Brother Klee said, moving up to join them, “I present Lady Andrixine Faxinor."
"The heir.” He frowned, comprehension bright in his eyes. “And your own kinsman tried to kill you."
"This subterfuge is to protect her life,” Brother Klee said, his voice still calm but with an underlying ring of command. “Until her murdering uncle is apprehended, we cannot let anyone know Andrixine Faxinor lives."
"My life for hers,” Jultar hurried to say. “It will be the highest honor of my life to serve the Sword Bearer."
"And mine,” Kalsan added in a strained voice, pushing his way to the front.
"We are all here to swear to you,” the warlord said. “Will you take our oath?"
"Brother Klee?” she pleaded, unsure what to say.
"Warriors, do you truly wish to serve the Sword Bearer?” the scholar asked. A low rumble of assent filled the room. “Lady Arriena is a prisoner. Show your dedication with action, and then we will speak of easy things like oaths."
* * * *
KALSAN STAYED IN Fala's stall and scratched his saddled mare's nose, listening as Brother Klee and Jultar questioned the prisoner. The stable was amazingly quiet for all the ruckus and jollity filling the town. With five stalls between him and the one where they held the bound and bruised prisoner, Kalsan could hear every word.
His disappointment ached worse than his bandaged arm when the man spilled the information readily. Kalsan wanted an excuse to batter the man. He thought over what Andrixine had told them of the attack at the inn. There wasn't enough pain to pay for what those men had done.
Kalsan glared as Jultar and Brother Klee led the prisoner past the stall. Jultar saw Kalsan and nodded for him to follow.
"It is not far,” Brother Klee announced to the waiting, mounted warriors.
Andrixine sat her stallion at the doorway to the stables, her eagerness shining brighter than the torches several warriors carried. She nudged Grennel closer to the bound man, and he cringed away from her.
"Where?” she asked, her voice harsh with strain.
"At the eastern edge of town,” Jultar answered. He swung up into the saddle of his horse and drew his sword, pointing. “An old grain storage bin, made into a wayhouse. We will have to dismount and come upon it in quiet, but they only have two men there with Lady Arriena and her maid.” He smiled, baring his teeth at the prisoner. “They are waiting for their companions to come back with the ransom money."
"They'll have an uncomfortably long wait, won't they?” Brenden drawled.
Andrixine laughed with the others. Kalsan thought her voice pure music, but for the bitter delight that turned it harsh.
It was a ride of only ten minutes, and they dismounted when the lights of the wayhouse were pinpricks among the trees ahead. Jultar led the way, with Brenden and Marfil behind him. Kalsan walked behind them with Andrixine between him and Brother Klee. Walking next to her, Kalsan felt her restlessness vibrating through the air. He was glad of it, distracting him from trying to see her features in the moonlight. Why, with this important rescue ahead of them, did his thoughts keep catching on the fact that she was a maiden? He kept telling himself that it didn't matter; their oath and her position as Sword Bearer was all that mattered.
Why didn't he believe himself?
"They're both inside,” Brenden whispered, passing along news from the warriors who had gone ahead. “We're to storm the door and windows, and Marfil and Doyan will come down from the roof."
"Do you think they'll try to harm my mother?” Andrixine asked, resting one hand on the hilt of her ordinary sword.
"They won't know what happened, my lady,” the man answered with a grin, his teeth gleaming in the moonlight.
"Oh, please, Brenden...” She sighed, then a mischievous smile tweaked at her lips. “I prefer being called Drixus."
"That might not be permitted,” Brother Klee said as they turned to approach the wayhouse through the trees. “King Rafnar will send an honor guard from the Sword Sisters for you. They won't permit such familiarity."
"Appearances and protocol.” Andrixine made the words sound like curses. Despite his discomfort, Kalsan grinned. “Commander Jeshra never put up with such idiocy. Why should I?"
They reached the dark bulk of the wayhouse, and their band divided to their assigned tasks, moving to the door, the windows, or climbing to the thatched roof. They worked in teams, one to break down the barrier and the other to dash or swing or tumble through, weapons ready. They were perhaps too many men to send against two ruffians, but nothing could be left to chance. What if someone moved a moment too slow and their enemies had a chance to hurt the prisoners?
Kalsan, Brother Klee and Andrixine would be the last to enter. While the others overwhelmed the kidnappers, they were to find and release Lady Faxinor and Glynnys.
Jultar raised his hand, barely visible in the spatters of moonlight breaking through the trees. Kalsan glanced at Andrixine, her face a pale slash in the darkness. He wanted to put his arm around her, to give comfort.
Wood creaked, groaned and snapped under only a few blows. Light spilled out into the darkness as shutters shattered under blows from hard arms and swords and axes.
Two men shouted—Jultar's warriors attacked in silence. No women cried out, and Kalsan worried about that. What if their prisoner had given them the wrong information? What if they attacked the wrong place and there were no prisoners waiting to be rescued?
What if the ladies had been killed?
Andrixine pushed past him. Kalsan had to run to catch up,
They burst into the wayhouse, blinking against the smoky glow from the tumbledown fireplace. Jultar stood over one man, held flat against the ground by Marfil and Doyan. The other man cowered in a corner, arms covering his head, trembling while three warriors stood over him.
"My lady,” Brenden called. He gestured at the men. “Do you recognize them?"
Andrixine only took a few seconds to look at each man. She nodded, then strode across the room to a sagging door, held closed with a board wedged against the latch. Kalsan looked around the room, guessing its size. The second room had to be little more than a closet.
She kicked the board away. The door stuck at the bottom corner. Andrixine tugged hard, making the wood scream. Kalsan smiled at her determination and strength.
&nb
sp; A single candle lit the tiny room where two women sat on a narrow cot, hands folded in their laps, staring at the sword-carrying figure before them. Kalsan stepped up behind Andrixine, wanting to help, not sure how.
"Mother?” she said, her voice breaking.
Silence. Brother Klee brought a lantern. By the fitful light, the women's condition became clear. Their clothes were filthy, torn in places; hollows in their pale cheeks showed their captors had not cared about feeding them. Their blonde hair hung flat and greasy, though someone had made an effort to keep it neatly dressed.
The taller woman had a poise that labeled her Lady Arriena Faxinor. Kalsan saw her eyes begin to blaze like Andrixine's. She lifted her chin, a tight smile tugging at her lips. The other woman clutched at her torn skirts and cowered back against the wall. Lady Arriena stood and held out her arms.
Andrixine flung herself into the room to wrap her arms tight around her mother. Lady Arriena's legs buckled, and her daughter held her up. Silence filled the wayhouse, letting the woman's sobs ring clear into the darkness beyond.
"It's all right, Mother. You're safe now.” Andrixine raised her head to look at the maid unfolding herself from the corner. “It's all right, Glynnys. They won't hurt you again."
Brother Klee stepped up to the door and held out a hand to the maid. She let him lead her from the room while Andrixine stayed with her mother. She guided her back to sit on the cot and knelt next to it, holding her shaking body.
"Alysyn? Where is she?” Lady Arriena whispered through her slowing sobs. She wiped tears from her face, trying to smile. Color began to seep back into her cheeks. “They told me both of you were dead, but if you're here—I couldn't believe them. I wouldn't believe them. I kept praying and—Alysyn?"
"Safe at Snowy Mount.” She glanced over her shoulder at Kalsan waiting at the door. Andrixine grinned at him. “Alysyn is safe, but I don't know about Snowy Mount."
"Oh, Andrixine!” A slightly hysterical chuckle escaped her mother. “They were so sure you were dead. I saw your uncle's seneschal pay them gold and I thought he was ransoming me—but he only asked if you were dead and went away."
"I know, Mother. We found the other men. Uncle Maxil hired them. But that's all over now. Come.” She stood, holding out her hand to help her mother rise. “We'll take you from here and let you wash and change clothes and eat, and then we'll go home."
"Go home,” Lady Arriena echoed. She smiled a little more steadily now and let her daughter help her stand. “Oh, your poor father. What has he been thinking?"
"He'll be all right soon,” Andrixine assured her. She put her arm around her mother's waist to steady her as they walked through the door.
"My lady?” Kalsan held out his arm to offer support. He felt proud when Lady Arriena bestowed a smile on him and let him twine his arm through hers.
"Andrixine,” the woman said, stopping short as they reached the stronger light. “What did you do to your hair?"
Kalsan burst out laughing at the crooked grin and blush that crossed Andrixine's face. She stuck her tongue out at him, then began to chuckle, tears in her eyes.
* * * *
BROTHER KLEE WOKE the innkeeper and a maidservant to get food and hot water, soap and clean clothes for Lady Arriena and Glynnys. They put the women in the single room their entire band had been prepared to share. Brother Klee brought out his satchel full of healing herbs and dosed both women and told them to sleep. There were only a few hours left until dawn. With no other rooms to be had, the warrior band would find places to rest in the stable or in the soft grass along the river. They were used to far worse conditions.
Before she went to stay with her mother, Andrixine met with the warriors in the stable. Jultar had told her it was an honor to serve the Sword Bearer and their glad duty. Such words made her uncomfortable. She had to thank them, let them know how much it meant to her.
"If we have served you well, we only ask to be allowed to give our oaths to you,” the warlord said when Andrixine stumbled through her thanks.
He stood between her and his men, in the main aisle of the stable lit by a single lantern. Kalsan stood at Andrixine's right, Brother Klee on her left—it seemed to be their chosen places now. The warriors stood at attention, eyes gleaming, proud smiles on their faces, alert and strong despite the hour and their lack of sleep.
"There are no other warriors I would rather have with me when Sendorland attacks,” Andrixine said.
Jultar went to one knee before her. He unsheathed his sword and placed it in her hands and clasped his palms together over the blade. One wrong move from either of them and he might lose a hand. Andrixine held still, knowing what would happen now and hating it. Jultar recited his lineage, emphasizing members of his ancestry who had also served Sword Bearers.
"I swear my strength and the knowledge of my years to the service of the Sword Bearer. To her safety and her aid, to her honor. To the freedom of our land and to the honor of the king. May I die with the light of the Spirit Sword in my eyes,” he finished, finally removing his hands from the blade.
"Lord Jultar of Rayeen ... I thank you.” She raised the sword so its tip didn't touch the ground. Brother Klee had advised her to follow her heart instead of ritual. “I know if I had asked, you would have given all without the pledge. I value your experience because I am over-young. Perhaps Yomnian guided us together for you to fill what is lacking in me.” The words failed on her tongue. Andrixine felt the gazes of everyone fastened on her.
She lifted the sword, turning it around, balancing it on her sleeve. With the hilt facing away from her, she handed the sword back to Jultar.
"I swear my life for yours. If I could, not a single life would be spent in vain.” Her throat ached.
"Well said,” the old warrior murmured, taking back his blade.
"I claim next place,” Kalsan said, stepping from her side. “We swore blood oath, but I must swear to the sword and its Bearer as well. It's different,” he added, voice lower.
Andrixine let him put the hilt of his sword into her hands. It was indeed different. Somehow, the second oath put a distance between them. The vow of oath-friend had been between them alone, and special. They had shed blood defending each other.
She fought the hot pressure in her eyes that signaled tears. Had she lost something precious, in being revealed as Bearer of the Spirit Sword?
[Back to Table of Contents]
PART THREE
Faxinor
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Fourteen
"DO YOU RECALL how we wrung the confession from the men who kidnapped your mother?” Brother Klee asked.
They rode south on the Bantilli Trail toward Faxinor Castle, the morning still dewy and full of gray shadows before full dawn. Glynnys had been left with a cousin who lived in Morstontown. The man was mortified to realize she had been so close, a prisoner, and offered to send word to the families of Lily and Cedes, to tell them the sad news of their deaths. Andrixine felt some weight leave her shoulders at having that bitter duty finally resolved.
Lady Arriena rode a horse bought in Morstontown. The recovered wagon wasn't fit to ride, and the trip would be faster if she rode. When Andrixine didn't ride beside her mother, Kalsan took her place to aid Lady Arriena. He claimed it was his duty as her oath-friend.
Now, Andrixine rode next to Brother Klee and Jultar to confer with them. By early afternoon tomorrow, they would reach Faxinor Castle, and they had to make plans. Jultar had appointed himself her war chief. Andrixine was glad to let him handle plans and strategy, but she still needed to be part of it.
"Yes. With force and threat of death,” she said after only a moment to think over the question. “Nothing truly spoken, but the actions interpreted clearly enough."
"Threats. Force. Pain,” Jultar said. “Not always effective. Some choose death over telling what they know."
"There is a more accurate means than threats,” Brother Klee said. “Some confess to crimes they never c
ommitted, to escape pain."
"Trickery."
"Besides trickery. The Spirit Sword has the power to discern truth from lie. You must pray and command the sword to seek out falsehood. Touch the sword to the one you question. Its light will reveal whether he speaks truth or lie."
"This is for my uncle, then?"
"We need a confession he will not contest later. Even without experience, you can discern truth from lie by the color of the light. Blue so pale it is silver-white is honesty. Red near black is deception. And one other thing, Andrixine.” The holy man paused and pressed his lips together until a white rim formed around his mouth. She knew he didn't like what he had to say next, but duty pressed him.
"It regards my uncle?” she ventured.
"Very much. There is always a danger of influencing the sword to see from your perspective. Merely influence,” he emphasized, raising a hand to forestall her question. “You cannot force the Spirit Sword to do your bidding, but you can influence it with the intensity of your emotions. Regarding your uncle, what you feel for him must be tightly controlled when you handle the Spirit Sword. You must pray with an honest desire for truth and justice in your heart."
"It will be hard."
* * * *
ANDRIXINE RODE UP to the ironbound gates of her home swathed in a cloak and hood. They had been blessed the last few hours and miles. The day started sunny but turned before noon to rain, miserable and cold, making everyone in their band anonymous under their cloaks. Andrixine had longed to see the golden-gray stone of Faxinor Castle glow in the afternoon sun. The rain made even the tallest towers look heavy and earth-bound and menacing.
Jultar parlayed with the gatekeeper, Abner, whose father had put Andrixine on her first pony. She had grown up with Abner, playmates until his increasing responsibilities took him away. He was a dusty brown, awkwardly thin and tall young man, so diligent sometimes he didn't see what was directly before him. She didn't fret when he left the gate closed and went into the castle to receive his orders from the seneschal. His care for her family pleased her.
Heir of Fain [Faxinor Chronicles #1] Page 14
