A Hero’s Bargain
by
Rayne Forrest
A Hero’s Bargain
Previously published.
This book is a work of fiction. While references to actual places or evens may occur,
the names, characters, incidents and locations are from the author’s imagination
and any resemblance to anyone, living or dead, is coincidental.
A Hero’s Bargain – Copyright © 2015 Rayne Forrest
Cover by Safari Heat © 2015
All Rights Reserved
White Deer Enterprises/White Deer Books
Reproduction of this digital e-book for file-sharing or selling, regardless of whether any type of currency is exchanged, other than what the author grants, is strictly prohibited by law.
WARNING: This book is intended for readers of the age of 18 years of age.
It contains explicit sexual content and language.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Chapter 1
“Saba! Quickly! Hallaf is injured!”
Saba Duer dropped the scroll she studied and sprinted outside to find her aunt aiding a tall, gangly youth limp across the center yard of the village. The boy dragged one leg, his leather trousers torn and stained dark with blood. Fear made bile rise in her throat. Her stomach churned on a rush of acid.
“Was it the errol?”
“No, Saba. I saw its tracks, but I fell.” Hallaf stumbled, pitching into Saba’s arms. She caught him, bracing him up.
“We must get him inside, Saba.” Jennica spoke calmly with the gift she had for not alarming the injured.
Saba nodded her agreement with her aunt as they eased Hallaf closer to her hut. Her stomach roiled as she spotted a group of boys watching them with eyes gone wide with fear. This was the legacy the children had now, the legacy the errol had brought them. She gave them something to do, a chore to keep them busy and make them feel useful.
“You boys run and fetch water from the well. Each of you bring me a bucket then gather one piece of firewood from each family and bring it to my hut.”
Some of the people would howl at her commands, but she couldn’t send such little ones outside the walls until she knew where Hallaf had seen the errol tracks. She herself would see the firewood replaced and water from the stream brought in for those who complained about their forced charity.
Hallaf was white with pain, and fear, as Saba and Jennica eased him onto the surgery bench. If his leg needed stitched, and Saba was sure it did from the size of the bloodstain on his pants, it would be quite painful. Hallaf made a request of her, one that tore at her heart over the poverty her people were reduced to.
“Don’t cut my pants more. I have no others.”
“Rest easy, Hallaf. We’ll take care.” Saba slid the tattered garment off his hips. The youth was pale skin over bone, as so many were these days. “Lift his foot, Aunt.”
Once removed, Jennica folded the trousers into a loose ball. “I’ll treat these with karaa root immediately. It will remove the worst of the stain, perhaps even all.” She patted Hallaf’s bony shoulder. “I have some spare cloth for mending, and these will be almost as good as new.”
Saba examined the wound on Hallaf’s thigh. Long and jagged, it had missed the major blood conduit. He was lucky in that. He would live unless the wound corrupted. What he may not be so fortunate in was the muscles healing without twisting.
“I will have to stitch it. It’s your best hope of walking normally when healed.”
Hallaf paled even further, but he nodded. “C-can you give me some of the sleeping nectar?”
Saba hesitated. She had only a few drops left, and knew there was little more to be found in the village. As the healer, she needed to save the precious liquid for the most serious of injuries. She didn’t even have enough to mix with red grass tea to ease a birthing woman.
“I’ll see what can be done. Lie back and relax as much as you can while I cleanse this.”
A shadow fell across Hallaf and Saba turned to find Tyree standing in her doorway. She’d known he’d come the minute word of an injury spread around the village. The boys scampering about on their errands would draw everyone’s attention.
Tyree entered her hut, coming to stand beside Hallaf, covering the youth’s hand with his. Saba listened intently to their conversation. Tyree was many things she didn’t like, but he was skilled in gently getting information from the injured, his voice surprisingly soft when he needed it to be.
He’d had much practice over the last seven seasons of Wae.
“Is this the work of the errol?”
“No, Tyree. I was traveling the east road and went off on the path to the holy shrine. There I saw fresh tracks of the errol. It…it frightened me and I ran. I tripped and fell onto a sharp stick.”
“I see. I will take a few men and go to the shrine and take a look around. Saba will explain to you the foolhardiness of being on the east road alone.”
Saba kept her face unreadable as she met his gaze. Tyree turned back to Hallaf.
“Although I suspect you’ve just paid a high price to learn the knowledge on your own. Saba.” Tyree nodded to her and left the hut. She heard him calling to his men-at-arms.
Saba busied herself tending the wound. She had no intention of scolding Hallaf. Tyree was correct. The young man had learned the hard way. Sighing tiredly she opened her bottle of sleeping nectar. It was all she had left unless and until she could get into the forest to gather the plant from which it was distilled.
“Drink it all, Hallaf, because this is going to hurt. A lot.”
* * * *
Saba pressed a cool cloth to Hallaf’s forehead. He was warm, but not overly so. She attributed it to the stress of receiving such an injury. A quiet knock sounded on her door. She knew who it would be.
“Come in, Tyree.”
He entered quietly and eased his tall frame onto a wooden stool Saba kept by the fire. He lifted the lid on her stew pot, abruptly dropping it, and blowing on his fingers. She chuckled and handed him a piece of leather toweling.
“If you’re going to be nosy, you can stir the stew, too.”
He didn’t look at all chastised, he never did, but her stew got stirred. She slid one of her wooden chairs in front of the hearth and sank wearily into it.
“You may have some stew if you’re hungry.”
“My thanks, Saba, but my men and I shared a fowl. I will dish some up for you, if you wish.”
The last thing she wanted was him waiting on her. He wanted her for a wife, and she generally sought to discourage him. He looked at her curiously.
“It’s only a bowl of stew, Saba. I can see how tired you are. Can you not accept even a tiny kindness from me?”
“You make me feel small, Tyree.”
“That is not my intention and you know it. Do not seek to quarrel with me. I am tired, as well. I’m here to speak with you, not try to bed you.”
Despite her relief that she wouldn’t have to fend him off yet again, the female in her was annoyed. And what annoyed her even more was that she was annoyed. She hated her own ambivalence wh
ere Tyree was concerned. The whole village thought they should mate. It would be an advantage to have the two village leaders couple. She just didn’t have the right feelings for him.
Or so she believed. She wasn’t sure she didn’t have them, either. Just what were those feelings like, anyway?
“So speak, Tyree. Did you find evidence of the errol?” She shivered just thinking of the creature being so close to the village again.
Tyree’s lips thinned. “Yes. It was at the spring. The tracks are several days old. Hallaf isn’t skilled at reading such signs.”
“He has other gifts. Tyree, I need to go into the forest and harvest some plants. I would not ask if the need was not critical.”
He regarded her coolly. She was preparing to argue with him when, to her surprise, he nodded.
“Many need to go beyond the walls. Tomorrow will be fair weather. Send the boys to tell those you need to assist you. I’ll assign guards.” He rose and retrieved a bowl off her shelf, then spooned two ladlefuls of stew into it. He handed it to her.
“Here. You will eat this. I will go and ask Hezetta to light a fire for you in the bathing chamber. When it’s ready, I’ll come back and sit with Hallaf. Afterward, you will rest.”
“I think you overstep yourself. I do not take such directions from you.”
“I know you think that, but you need to consider this. You’re headwoman of this village. Just forget for a moment that it’s my wish to mate with you and remember that you’ll be no good to me or anyone else if you collapse. Now do as I wish just this once. Must I beg?”
That brought her up short. He was not the kind of man who begged anyone for anything. Not even her. She took a closer look at him and was shocked by what she saw.
When had that gray begun gracing his temples? How long had those lines creased his face? She’d been so involved with the cares of the village she’d not paid attention to him. The people needed him, too.
“You are even more tired than I am. I’m sorry, Tyree. A bath would be appreciated.”
“Perhaps I could sleep by your fire?”
So he was exhausted, was he? That certainly sounded like the Tyree she’d known all her life. She rolled her eyes at him.
“No. But if Hezetta goes to all the trouble to make a fire, maybe she’ll keep it warm for you when I’m through.”
He snorted. “We must find a husband for Hezetta, and one whose name is not Tyree.” He stood and stretched. “I won’t be long. Eat your stew.”
With that he left, going about his self-appointed errands. Saba stared into the fire, spooning bites of the tasteless stew into her mouth. She needed more than the healing plants. All the women complained of the need for fresh herbs to make their cooking more palatable.
She finished her meal and checked on Hallaf before gathering her meager bath supplies. Things had been different before the errol had appeared. The village had prospered. They’d traded the bounty of their forest with others and been considered wealthy by all their neighbors. Things had changed. Now she had only rough soap to wash with, and that had to suffice for her hair, as well. What she really wanted were fresh eola leaves and their rich, fragrant lather.
It was an unprosperous vanity and that was all there was to it. Her long brown hair may not be as pretty as the golden tresses most women had, but it had gleamed in the sunlight. Honey-golden highlights appeared in her hair every season of Wae. Many had commented on the shining circlet the sun gave her. Now her hair was as dull as everyone else’s.
Vanity and pride would be her downfall. Her mother had told her that many times.
Nonetheless, if she could find the right plants tomorrow, she’d be able to wash her hair and have it truly clean and shiny, at least for a few days.
It had been a long time since she’d gone to the bathing chamber, preferring to heat water and bathe in a basin rather than face Hezetta. Hezetta truly wished to couple with Tyree and saw Saba as an obstacle. It was just easier to bathe privately than in the warm water in the cave. Now she was tired enough that the thought of sinking into the gently swirling water and soaking her tired muscles sounded like bliss.
Her door opened and her aunt came in holding Hallaf’s leather trousers. She laid them on the table.
“I did what I could. We all need new garments, but there are no pieces of fine leather left, no wool from the wild goats. We should leave this place, Saba, and settle elsewhere. Let the errol have these woods.”
Saba’s stomach clenched. Jennica only voiced what many thought, what she sometimes thought herself when she lay awake in the still darkness of the deep night. They could go, find a new place to settle. Hadn’t her own mother’s ancestors done that very thing when they’d settled here?
No, she could not. This was her home. Her mother, and her mother’s mother, were buried here, in the woods. Their deaths, and the deaths of all those who came before them, was the price of the freedom they all claimed as their way of life. She couldn’t turn her back on this place.
The errol had come here seeking something, but no one knew what. Speculation was rampant, but one frightful thing was certain—the creature was intelligent. It had come here, where game was plentiful, the water pure, and the land bountiful.
It had killed outright, true, but not for many years. Now it only responded if threatened. Unfortunately, its claws were poisonous and many people could not survive the toxin. Even a small nick was deadly.
Many refused to see the truth of it. Many believed it killed indiscriminately and for pleasure. Saba didn’t waste her breath arguing with them. Regardless of facts, regardless of anything, only one truth mattered. They could not coexist peacefully with the creature.
Saba nodded at her aunt’s words. It was the only way to stop Jennica from rambling on and on about it.
“Tyree is coming to sit with Hallaf while I go to the bathing chamber. Will you see that he eats some stew?”
“Of course. Are we really going outside the walls tomorrow?”
“Perhaps. You and I will certainly go. I’ve not decided who else need take the risk. The fewer of us wandering about, the less chance the errol will feel threatened if it happens to return.”
Jennica nodded her agreement. Saba thought again on how strange it was that she was actually older than her aunt. It would be a relief to receive counsel instead of giving it constantly. She opened her door to gaze out at the sunset. Tyree was approaching, smiling. He handed her a small, pink wildflower. She gazed at it, open-mouthed.
“Where?” she croaked. The petals of the eola were what she needed to wash her hair. Crushed, they made the perfect lather.
“Just outside. This was the only one. I know I should not have picked it since it was, but I had to bring it to you.”
Saba bit the inside of her lip. He was right. He should not have taken it. But he’d done it as a kindness and she should accept it as such. Besides, the deed was accomplished. There wasn’t a way to put the flower back on its stalk. She smiled at him.
“Thank you, Tyree… By the gods, what is that?”
Tyree spun around as a fireball shrieked from the sky, falling behind the western hill. The noise was deafening as the sound of a large collision reached them. Flames stretched toward the sky. Villagers ran from their huts, drawn by the light and the noise. Saba’s knees threatened to give way.
“It cannot be, Tyree. It cannot be.”
He held her on her feet, his grim face stained red as blood by the sunset and the flames. Men were arming themselves and running through the gate. The fire had to be contained and extinguished as quickly as possible.
“I must go, Saba. Round up what women and young ones whooo can help and bring them.”
She nodded even as her heart threatened to stop beating and shrivel in her chest.
It was just such a fireball that had brought the errol. Now there would be two.
Chapter 2
Thirty-seven hours earlier…
Jackpot. He’d hit the jackpot. The cards
were falling in his direction. Ryder Vaughan pushed the entire pile of credits in front of him to the center of the table.
“That’s a fool’s move, made by a fool.”
Ryder smiled at the ugly, unshaven mug sneering at him from across the poker table. How can one man be so fucking ugly, anyway?
“Then I’m a fool. You’re a thief. That might make us even.”
Cankered lips pulled back in what would have been a smile had the man had any real teeth left in his head. Those blackened snags didn’t count as teeth any longer in Ryder’s book.
Ugly flipped a gold coin onto the pile of credits. A real gold coin. The premonition that skittered up Ryder’s back was far uglier than his card mates. Something was amiss.
“Call.”
Ryder leaned back in his chair, casually dropping his right hand into his lap. His fingers closed around his stunner. Thank the ancient gods for grace. The stunner was as illegal a weapon as one could find these days.
Left-handed, Ryder flipped up his cards. “Four aces, pal.”
Instead of looking disappointed, Ugly smirked and flipped up an ace of diamonds. “You’re cheating, Vaughan, or whatever your name really is. Around here, that’s punishable by death.”
Ryder didn’t move, didn’t even swallow. He’d been set up. How could he have been so blind as to not see it coming?
Arrogance. That’s what it was.
He’d been so sure he was smarter than everyone else at this table that he’d not paid enough attention. There was no point arguing. It was bolt or die.
It was probably die while trying to bolt, that was the truth of it, but wasn’t ready to die. He activated the stunner. The low whine of the weapon charging to a lethal level sent Ugly and his playmates into action. They dived for cover.
Ryder Vaughan, traveler, trader, and erstwhile gambler, dived for the door. But not before he snatched up a handful of the credits, including that gold coin, and shoved the loot into his pants pocket. That split second might be costly but there was no way that coin was getting away from him.
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